Six am, dressed and ready to go, standing out in front of my room staring up at the sky. Any other day, the sun would have already found it's spot in the sky and the heat would have been a blaze. But today, it's different. The sun's been blotted out by the sand storm slowly rolling through and the sky paints a tainted orange picture for us down on the ground. I'm not one to be able to judge the speed of wind, but it's packed with a steady blow that puts more sand in the cup of coffee I have, which makes for a gritty taste...but I still drink it, because I love my coffee. The rest of the base is still quiet, fast asleep, except for maybe the night shift folks, who probably found a nice spot in the dark of the night to catch some shut eye as well, which I don't doubt. I light up a cigarette, which is a challenge in this type of weather. A few other guys on my team start stepping out of their rooms doing the same thing I did, stare directly up into the sky, eyes barely open trying to see through the sand. We pass a smirk back and fourth amongst each other, because we know there's no way we're saddling up in the trucks and pushing outside the gates until the weather eases up; it's too dangerous. So now, just to enjoy this wonderful weather we are faced with, I find a seat on my steps slowly sipping my coffee, trying my best to finish it before I have a sand castle in my cup. Sitting in the quiet haze of orange and dust, my mind begins to wonder off. I begin to remind myself of where I'm at, and what I'm doing here. Wearing the same uniform that thousands before me have worn and the sacrifices the fallen heroes have made, and most importantly, wearing the same uniform that my father once wore as proudly as he did, with our last name over the heart, holding true to what we've been taught: Work with passion and dedication, and never ease up no matter how hard it gets. I think of the freedoms our country is gifted with, and the price that's put on such a gift. I think of all the loved ones back home and the love and support they show, and suddenly I feel it run through my body, as it sends a shiver down my spine, of how real it feels. I think of my baby daughter and the innocence in her eyes and in the sound of her laughter, and suddenly a tear streams down my face, which almost instantly is dried out by the sand. It was as if nature itself was kindly letting me know, "there's no time to cry in this soldier, you have to keep pressing on with the mission." As hard as it's been, constantly moving and working as much as we have with barely a day off within the week, I get up. It takes more out of me this time to do so, but as I think of my family, and all of their support and love, I find strength within my soul to push through what wants to slow me down, and step back up to the plate to fight for my country, to stand that line with my fellow team, a line that budges for no one who threatens the very structure of pride and glory we have for the flag that still can be seen through the storm. I do it first and foremost for the God who has given me life, I do it for the family that gives me love, my wife and my daughter, and I do this for the soldiers who have fallen with the colors of our flag draped over their coffins who stood with the very same beliefs and pride that we all stand with today. I dig deep down in my heart and say this with all the pride and respect that one could possibly have.