Posted by lex, on July 9, 2006
Off again, to sea this time. A very short trip, but it’s an early wake-up and I found myself – probably not for the last time – muttering a few curses under my breath as I stuffed my parachute bag. A 0500 out-or-down, and it’s not like I’m looking forward to it. Getting too old for this sort of thing, says I. But, it’s well and truly writ that time, tide and formation wait for no man. And when your ride draws forty-plus aft, the tide can be a stern mistress.
And it’s all on account of my generousity, like: One of my subords got screened for a plum, and I let her go early, didn’t I? Promising to cover her load, while her own relief took her own blessed time showing up. Which I also acceded to, being a softie at heart, and unwilling to cut someone else’s command tour short for my own selfish needs. You only get so many months, and then it’s back at the handle, why aren’t you grinding harder?
So: No one to blame but myself.
Might be I can drop a line from out there. Might be I can’t.
Guess we’ll see.