Adapting and ever changing, finding new life in old hunks of junk others would throw away. Miserly some would say, thrifty would be the preferred word choice for most. The young bucks up and coming have no memory of the famine, they can't imagine ever doing without. Those who've walked through Hell and back will never forget.
~note order suckling pig and more rum for pre FWs roast
Hoped the campers would rub off on the new recruits but seems they are a special breed. Not everyone can sit on their hands and not go stir crazy. Patience grasshopper, you either build it or you break. We've lost a few to the Asylum. Good men, lost in their own delusions. Forever traveling through the labyrinth of their mind, lost in the canyons of yesteryear.
Missions are a 'no' for campers, battles only as ordered. As laid back as these guys are, it's hard to imagine the scars they bear. Hearing some of the nightmares makes me shudder. Men passing by so fast, their mechas tore apart before their very eyes. Images of the pilots face, frozen forever in their minds. It's hard to imagine what would be the last thoughts to go through your mind as your mecha explodes. To translate them into an expression would vary as much as species do.
I'm so proud of these men. The fortitude they have is beyond compare. They know they are the backbone, they also know the odds of breaking and take the risk for us all. If all it takes is a shipment of Rum to keep the wheels rolling, we are better off than most.
~end of entry
Submitted by Deborah Roaché-Hudak #289133