This story is written by a lifelong pothead. Me. Most of it is probably true, if not a little exaggerated. So, if there's any question on the veracity of my tale, I'll refer to you elsewhere because only those who were there know the truth. What I can tell you is how overwhelming it is to have someone's life in my hands while secretly wondering what the hell to do next. But here I am, everyone looking for me to save them. No matter, I'll keep my guys alive if it's the last thing I do. Then, when it's over, I'll undoubtedly find some trouble to get into because life's too short not to have a little fun. The waiting joint is my reward, promising great ideas to keep me busy. If only they didn't backfire so spectacularly - like the time I took on the rat infestation with C4 and an ammo can, when I caused myself to be whipped by a 100-foot tree, or the time I blew up half of the encampment. Now all I have to do is stay out of my C.O.'s line of sight, which is not as easy a task as you might think. “This is not a traditional war story, but instead a journey of a young man coming of age in a war-torn country. From the moments of crisis where he shows his true grit to save a life, to the trouble he gets into daily, you won’t be bored. And it’s all true.” - P. B. Lee, Spec. 4