Holy Christ.

I bet they're using my old barracks as a prison. That's the island where swimming meant feeding Oceanic Blue Tips, walking meant heat exhaustion, coral abraisions, or...well, much, much worse. The island is a pimple on the ass of the planet. Tours of duty there paid hazard, separation and ES; triple play money that you had *nothing* to spend on, except in the E Club, NCO Club, or O Club. And really, there's only so much drinking you can do. Sounds like a *fine* place to put a max security prison for people you want to disappear.


Oh, my people.

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windelina

April 2008

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