A fellow veteran I knew and worked with has Gone West. It was not a good ending: guns and booze.
Always a bad mix, Sergeant, even for the 'stable'. But when it was The Time, aesthetics be damned, damn you all, something along those lines was it, Sergeant? HST had the bad taste to do it while talking to his Missus on the 'phone, a final manipulation. You were alone and in that one step up from a hootch you lived in, not a better place. Hell is other people or oneself sometimes, Sergeant.
I knew something was up when last I saw you, standing in the break room doorway just looking, no words where we usually had some.Every man has his limit, and I could tell, could smell,you had reached yours. You grilled me on heart attacks before; you were a medic once, you knew this stuff. You sat and conversed like a reasonable man, but reason not the need , eh, Sergeant? That was before the final slip to bottom , a bottom I have no knowledge of, what snakes were there? Like those in Panama, Sergeant? Panama: another time and place.You had a mission, Sergeant, is that what held you together? I know the feeling. Damn you. Bless you; too late, innit Sergeant? RIP.