Vote.

https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2018/03/iraq-war-anniversary/555983/

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The only other person awake, meanwhile, was one of my Rangers, who was on the porch of our house with a cup of coffee in one hand and a Marlboro Red in the other. He looked me up and down. I was wearing my underwear and flip-flops and carrying my carbine in one hand and my body armor in the other.

He took a drag from his cigarette and looked at me again, bemused.

“Good morning, sir. What the fuck are you doing?”

It was a good question.

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