By the end I even liked him. Respected him of course but maybe at some level a sense in which I saw him, if not as a friend, at least as someone I knew was there for me. It hadn’t started that way of course. I hated him. He hated me. He was straight out of countless movies. Screaming at me. Insulting me. Pushing me. But by the time I was what he and I knew a soldier needed to be, I was glad he’d been there. And now, he’s here on the battlefield. In the corner of my vision.