Snow falls lazily from the sky, echoing the flow of thought through my aged mind. Many are the lifetimes of Men I have counted, old even for one of my own kind. That is more of a wonder than it might at first seem, for I have not lead any easy life. Not that it has been a bad life, but I have certainly exercised more than my fair share of recklessness.

I laugh in wonder that I have survived this long, even as tears stream down my face as I mourn friends felled by the hand of enemies or by the hand of time. In my youth I used to consider that a redundant sentiment, for I saw the hand of time as an enemy. Later I came to see that even time can be merciful, dulling and even eventually removing old injuries to body and soul. How many names have I forgotten over the centuries? How many faces? These are not comforting thoughts.

I have decided that as I prepare myself to depart this world I will once again remember and honor those I have fought beside, and I will do my best to ensure their names are not easily forgotten. It is important for those that follow to know all we have sacrificed for them, that they might understand their duty and have the courage to face it.

I have combed through my journals, both professional and otherwise, to extract the pertinent pieces of my life and put them down in one central work.

This, then, is my story.