Some of the boldest schemes in which I have ever participated have been hatched over eggs and sausage and biscuits and coffee-lots and lots of coffee. If I'm lucky, in my post-Revelie reverie, I get a chance to enjoy a few appropriately inappropriate daydreams about my wife. But then I re-set my alarm and cast myself adrift in my sleeping bag for a few blissful minutes, while the other guys are still shuffling off to the shower.
I still get up at 0515 hours, grab a shower, put on the Army pants. Sometimes, I skip breakfast chow so that I can lay in my rack and think about my wife.
