Unbearable as the days of training were, they still came to an end finally. Then as I lay in my own bed, surrounded by the familiar musty scent of clothes and books, I wonder if they had gone too fast. Always too fast, the way we part. And I wish I could tell them that I love most the brotherhood of men but who is ready to understand what it is supposed to mean? So perhaps it is enough to give a light pat on the shoulder followed by a quick, friendly squeeze, for no words should exist between comrades more than necessary. Some place in the depths of our hearts and souls we're understood, I'd like to think.