My Regrets Are About The People I

I’ve Lived The Literal Meaning Of The ‘land Of The Free’ And ‘home Of The Brave.’ It’s Not Corny For Me. I Feel It In My Heart. I Feel It In My Chest. Even At A Ball Game, When Someone Talks During The Anthem Or Doesn’t Take Off His Hat, It Pisses Me Off. I’m Not One To Be Quiet About It, Either.

I Began Teaching My Son How To Shoot When He Was Two, Starting With The Basics Of A Bb Rifle. My Theory Is That Kids Get Into Trouble Because Of Curiosity—if You Don’t Satisfy It, You’re Asking For Big Problems. If You Inform Them And Carefully Instruct Them On Safety When They’re Young, You Avoid A Lot Of The Trouble. My Son Has Learned To Respect Weapons. I’ve Always Told Him, If You Want To Use A Gun, Come Get Me. There’s Nothing I Like Better Than Shooting.

I Am A Much Better Father And Husband Than I Ever Was A Sniper.

In My Experience, Marines Are Gung Ho No Matter What. They Will All Fight To The Death. Everyone Of Them Just Wants To Get Out There And Kill. They Are Bad-ass, Hard-charging Mothers.

The Rules Are Drawn Up By Lawyers Who Are Trying To Protect The Admirals And Generals From The Politicians; They’re Not Written By People Who Are Worried About The Guys On The Ground Getting Shot.