This evening I was hungry for a meal at the dining facility. There were no medical platoon vehicles available to drive me there and I did not want to eat cereal or some crackers and peanut butter.
OK — the buses run throughout the night. I strolled over to the bus stop and waited. There were several other soldiers waiting. No one recognized my rank because the day light was fading.
Then a truck passed by — the driver was heading for the dining facility and told anyone needing a ride to just hop on the back of the truck. Sounded good to me.
Now there must have been about seven other soldiers in the back of the truck. Finally, the soldier sitting next to me realized that I was a colonel. His facial expression was truly a Kodak moment. His face said to me — what the hell is a colonel doing in the back of the truck with all us enlisted. I knew he was wondering what to do next. He acknowledged my presence and at that moment so did all the others.
Then the question: what is a full colonel doing hitching a ride?  Simple answer — I was hungry and needed to get to the dining facility. I told them all to relax, that we are all brothers  side by side.
It was during this ride that I remembered my uncle — and infantry grunt in WW2 and General Omar Bradley, the soldier's general. I felt honored to ride with them that evening for it was in their eyes that I saw my uncle.

One soldier - never to return
While reviewing one soldier's medical records, I noted how little medical information was present. I was told that this soldier had died from an improvised explosive device. My heart just dropped. I went outside, sat down and cried.
I held in my hands this soldier's medical record. Here was his name and his identification. But I knew nothing of this brave individual who gave his life. Then I thought about this soldier's family. Was he married, did he have kids. How was his family coping with his loss.
So many questions and yet I could not even see his face. All I knew was a name and number. All I could do was cry

Outside the Wire
I was about to make my weekly trip to update the battalion commander, when a medic came in and said - IED with wounded - QRF. Quickly put on my body armor, holster with 9mm (magazines in pocket) and reached for my medical bag with medication to include morphine.
Into the FLA (ambulance) and rushed to the gate. Here we were met by four armored vehicles and one vehicle for taking care of the damaged vehicle. Out the gate we went. My adrenaline was flowing. No time to think about danger - the road we traveled has had many IED attacks. All I could think about was triage, airway, breathing and circulation. Basic Emergency Care. Not sure of how many wounded or degree of injury. Helicopter evacuation has been called.
Nearing the area we heard that the helicopter had picked up two wounded soldiers and was in transit back to the base. We arrived on the scene - so many soldiers covering the area, faces so young. There I met this young female medic who tended to the injured, cared for both soldiers. This medic saved those soldiers lives by her quick reaction, excellent care and more importantly her sense of caring for her wounded buddies. She did a great job - I thanked her. The damaged vehicle was semi protected with armor, if not, then all would have been lost.
A medic at the scene had mentioned to me that I was not locked and loaded. That's right, 'outside the wire', I am supposed to put bullets in the gun. Maybe next time.