If we had not had an alert (when all units move out to a predetermined location in a forested area), and you were not on guard duty, or were not already in the field, then you could sleep in.

That’s right. We could sleep in until our regular getting up time: 5:30 a.m.

Sometimes, when I’m having my coffee in the early morning darkness, I think back to those mornings in Germany, so many years ago.

Also, as I have over so many, many years, I consider how blessed I was to spend my three years active duty at a time when there was no shooting war taking place in which our country was involved. (The Viet Nam buildup used only U.S. troops as advisors first.)

I was in Berlin a brief time in early October of ’61, and have photos of me taken in front of — but at a proscribed distance from — the Brandenburg Gate.

They were putting up barbed wire in front of it, as the Wall was many months away from being completely erected.

Now, imagine my emotions when I watched on television as the Wall was breached, forever, in ’89.

For me, the stillness of early mornings often sets me to thinking, to remembering, and, yes, praying. Be still and know.

Still, I wish I could sleep a bit longer, to be honest. A good night’s sleep is rarely ever mine. Why, we’ll not elaborate upon in so public a venue. The effects of sleep deprivation are my almost constant companions. A lack of energy, stamina, clear-thinking capability, diminish the quality of one’s life, as I’m sure far too many others will attest.

This self-centered lamentation does not obscure my awareness and appreciation of my truly manifold blessings. I won’t let that happen.

And so. Why on earth did I write all of this, much less allow it to be printed? Not smart, old boy.

But I will tell you this. Sitting on our back porch, watching the sun begin to herald a new day, as a thin sliver of light peeps over the trees at the far reaches of the fields; seeing the mist begin its evanescence; knowing that Gladys and Babe will soon end their night-time slumber to begin the day’s grazing; the dark forms coming into focus revealing the deer; seeing, feeling, savoring all of this, in its silent wonder, lets me know, every single time, just how blessed I am.

And for that awareness I am truly grateful.

APROPOS — “This old world we’re living in is mighty hard to beat. We find a thorn with every rose, but ain’t the roses sweet.”

— Anon