My life since September 11, 2001 has been one giant game of buzzword bingo. Enough jingoism, war-hawkery and hoorah, hooyah, and hooah to make a promotional recruitment film for each of the services.
We've had combat speakers. Honor speakers. Important flag officers. Battle hardened grunts. And of course, the Commandant of the Naval Academy, who can't decide if he's a classical history scholar or a special operations infantryman. Sometimes he doesn't make up his mind and spouts Thucydides and Full Metal Jacket in the same sentence.
Tip of the spear.
In Harm's Way.
Born to Liberate.
Free the World from the menace of terror.
Here's a buzzword for you: surreal. On that fateful night, I spent the dog watch hiding under a ghilie blanket with a short range walkie talkie, binoculars and a towel rack for self defence watching Annapolis Harbour. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. I do today. Yeah, I'm going to pick off some terrorist climbing over the seawall with a shower curtain. The Midshipman Officer of the Watch sure thought I could. Since then, it's been a constant stream of "Get ready, get set, go... wait, just giving you an idea of what combat is really like!".
Hero? Maybe some other day. Not today, nor yesterday.