Home is where you hang your rifle

I'm kind of starting to like it here.

I think it's like being normal.

When I go to mess, I sit in the same place and talk to the same people, but I eat something different every day. I sleep in a real bed, in a real room, with privacy and everything.

And don't get me started on the showers.

There are a lot of people to talk to here, people I'm getting to know. I'm pretty sure they're becoming friends.

...and then there's the Major.

And my father.

I think I like it here more than anywhere else I've ever been, and that's kind of saying a lot, because I've been a lot of places.

I could get used to living here, but...

It's not going to last.

We're here on assignment, and when the assignment's done, we'll leave again. Just like always.

I know nothing lasts forever.

But I want to keep this just a little bit longer, if I can.

We came in from the cold, pretending to be a countersniper unit so we could get closer to the target. It's a really great cover, actually, and should make our job easier.

Unless we don't take out the target.

Like say, if Leshovik misses his shot next time we get the target in our sights.

Then we would have to back off for a while and pretend to look for the 'enemy snipers' who took the shot. That could, you know, take weeks.

I mean, every time he misses, he blames me anyway.

I guess that would just make it my fault again.