It is early November of the year 2011, I have just stepped off the plane in Hawaii, coming back from pre-deployment leave.  My thoughts turn to my family, I have said my goodbyes but, not all of them...

    "Aloha! And mahalo for flying..." My thoughts are interrupted by two words I hate the most: 'Aloha' and 'mahalo', fucking Hawaiians! Hawaii is place where the general populace would rather see it's military occupants dead than on 'their' islands.

    I wait at the baggage claim area when my phone begins to ring; it displays the name 'Barboza'...

    "Oh God..." My heart sinks, I JUST got off the plane, what the hell does he want!

    "Hello..."
    "Hey Dilliard, you back on base yet?"
    "I'm in baggage claim right now."
    "Aight dude, give me a call when you get back on base."
    "Will do..." I dishearteningly reply.

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    I arrive on base as the depressing taxi ride takes me past gate security and pulls into the parking lot of barracks '5071'.  I quickly pay the driver, grab my luggage, and begin my ascent up four flights of stairs to my room.  My spirit is lifted as I'm greeted by numerous loud obnoxious screams and "Erahs" of my fellow infantrymen; I excitedly return their screams.

   My brother, Molatch, was the first to welcome me back with open arms. We embraced, then he helped me carry the remainder of my bags to our room where we plopped on the couch, lit up a cigarette, and listened to the voices of Katy Perri and Taylor Swift on the stereo.

    Yells of joy then filled the room as Ellis and Howie proceeded to walk in.  We all sat down, smoked some more cigarettes, and talked about our leave stories; It wasn't until our minds turned toward deployment when we decided beer was a must.

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- More of the story to come soon, so stick around-