Lots of people posting pictures of themselves in #uniform today. Smiling, mostly. I remember many of them when they looked like that, and the ones I don't—well, I still remember *being* them.

Photographic evidence of my #service is oddly thin on the ground. That sounds like it should be much more cool and mysterious than it actually is! "His paperwork says he was in the service. But there are no details. Not even a snapshot."

What it really means, of course, is that I just didn't draw enough attention to get people to want to take many pictures of me, and in the pre-camera-phone era, that was easy. The one picture I have of myself in uniform that I really like is already posted in my Facebook photos, and it's deliberately goofy. As for the rest, there just wasn't usually anyone with a Polaroid around when I was [REDACTED].

No objection to anyone else posting their photos, to be clear. I like seeing us when we were young and strong and pretty.

I also haven't posted my usual annual series of Siegfried #Sassoon poems. There's no reason for that except distraction and exhaustion, which I think he would understand very well. "For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days / Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways" ... yes indeed. Life keeps happening, for most of us. Beats the alternative.

Next year the poems will be back, most likely. There's a reason I keep posting them. Sassoon captured the sheer insanity like no one else, which is why #McCrae and #Brooke and yes, even #Owen, are more popular. Cleaner. More palatable.

Those pictures. Sassoon *also* gave voice to the thoughts we're ashamed to admit. Not shame over weakness in the face of overwhelming #horror: that was revolutionary a century ago, but a cliche now. *Craving* the horror, that part is still hard to face. Smiling faces and pressed uniforms and red dreams.

#Binyon: "Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn." That's in every young #soldier's head, and anyone who tells you it's not is a liar. Young and strong and pretty forever. Unlike most of the fantasies, it doesn't go away, after years back on civvie street. I know it's more on my mind with every passing decade, and I bet I'm not alone.

I'm glad I'm still here, and a lot of other people are too. We're not ready to throw the torch from failing hands just yet.

So I won't wish a happy day, nor offer thanks for service. *Congratulations* to all of us for making it this far. Food and showers and beds are just over the next rise. One foot in front of the other. Follow me.