I remember more than once being tickled through the bottom of my shoes.

Prior to deploying to the Philippines, we were going to get good at marching for dozens of miles with our ruck sacks (the Army’s version of a backpack) packed to weigh no less than 60 pounds.

But nothing compared to the absolute listening frenzy when a Beatles album would drop.

Luckily, I stumbled into something extracurricular to distract myself from the two-step cycle of field training and the weekend: Solider of the month, quarter, and year competitions.

You’re not likely going to think of a four year old as a pioneer, or trend setter, but I was exactly those things.

Let me start by owning up to I don’t know what I’m doing.

Turns out, no one was hitting their new Titleist on the hole with a water hazard.

Being out in the field on the Pohakuloa Training Area (PTA) for long stretches of time, I got used to certain things. Being perpetually dusty. Never really being rested. What the engine on the Gama Goat should sound like when it was running properly.

When I was at Schofield Barracks, our battalion commander was a local. Someone born and raised in Hawai’i. Everybody’s from someplace, so I didn’t think much about it at the time. After all, my strategy was to have minimal contact with the battalion commander, and it was one of the first things (other than running) I was really successful at in the Army.