Today is the survival ex. 3 days. 20 bullets. I mean...nevermind. Should I not come back, I want to be cremated with a stick of dynamite, since it's so near april fools. I shall become very good friends with my knife, gasmask, and morphine in the trenches. Note to self: Next time there is a mustard gas attack, bring your carbon filter you idiot, a gasmask isn't gasmaskable without a carbon filter, and also note, when using it in a tactical forest ambush, the lenses tend to fog up, causing paranoid schizophrenia due to various noises in the bush. But remember, if you are going to be taken down, go down screaming 'Ambush, ambush, AMBUSH!' until the fifth blow to the head puts you out.