Another inspection tour completed. The new conscripts are just children. They stand too straight, their eyes too wide. They haven't learned the first rule yet: that the uniform is the heaviest thing you will ever wear. It doesn't get lighter. You just learn to carry the weight without letting your shoulders slump.

I signed off on their deployment rosters. My signature is a formality now. A ritual. The pen feels the same. The ink is the same. The orders are not.

One asked me, 'General, what is our primary objective?' I gave the textbook answer. He believed it. I envied him.

The primary objective is to survive your own conscience. The manual doesn't cover that.