𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬.

𝟐𝟓 | 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧.

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐬, 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫. Those are the four components that make up our moral compass.

We now live in a time where it's too easy to lose our way. But despite that, Dale still stayed true to himself and often provided us with his moral and ethical wisdom. He walked with honor, integrity and the courage to stand by his own convictions. I might have not always agreed with him on matters, but I always knew where he was coming from.

He's someone who I admired and respected. His passing is tough on us all. But I find comfort in knowing the he didn't let this world take him down with it and now it'll never get the chance to again.

𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝.

We buried him this morning. Alongside Hershel's wife and son as well as Sophia, he was laid to rest overlooking acres of farmland. Miles of open fields filled with wild flowers surround the burial site making it perfect to watch the sun as it rises and falls through the trees. Not too far from the farmhouse, but enough to be in awe of the beautiful view that it beholds.

Once while serving overseas I was shot. The fight had poured out onto the streets just before my squad arrived. Thunderous bawls tore through the air from fellow brothers and sisters greeting us the moment our boots hit the blood soaked ground. Their hopes of support were quickly shattered as the enemy kept control of the situation with their ruthless tactics.

We tried to push forward but were quickly pinned down by hostiles in unknown locations. Men in the streets were able to wreak havoc as others used sniper rifles to keep us from getting into the fight. Some of us had no other choice but to take cover behind the barricade made from our armored vehicles. We stood huddled together swearing and praying to god that their rounds wouldn't find an opening.

A handful of soldiers had cleared a building not too far from where we were, so are they provided us with as best cover as they could we slowly moved toward them.
As it was my turn to head over I heard the piercing sound of a man who had been taken down. He laid wailing a few feet away from where I had reached the half way mark.

My adrenaline was so intense that I acted without fear as I changed my course of action to try and make it to him. Almost immediately a man came from behind a wall and tagged me on the side of my lower abdomen just below the vest. My body was already falling sideways while I groaned hunched over clutching onto the wound.

There is no dramatic motion of watching the bullet come swirling through the air and into your body. Once you're shot, you're down. There's no being sent flying backwards, or taking a few more steps as you hold your wound and look down to see the blood staining your hands shocked before you fall. You just fall. It's not like the movies and I don't care how tough you are, how brave or how strong you are. Getting shot fucking sucks.

At one point I remember looking up and seeing my friend, Sergeant Justin Richardson. When the guys watched me get taken down he ran from cover to come for me. He grabbed me by the vest and began to drag me backwards towards the building. Air support was close giving him the hope of keeping me alive long enough for them to make it to us.

Groaning from the movement he looked down to comfort me as he walked. "Hang in there! I've—"
The next shot was sent straight through his neck. His eyes had only met mine for only a split second before I turned my head to the side to see him beside me.

I laid for about fifteen minutes staring into his widened eyes before Andrew could reach us to pull me back behind the tank. He was dead all but five of those minutes.