As I am going through the plethora of pictures for our end of tour award ceremony I am putting together, I feel a conflicting range of emotions. I look at the faces of my brothers and I see their smiles, their frowns and their fatigue. I can see the same varied emotions on my face as well. I am anxious to be getting home and being with my family and friends; I am also sad in a way. This place, this miserable, dangerous world has been my home for the past year and though I do not want to stay, I think I will miss the adventure. I know I will miss the rush of combat. I will miss the experience of armored trucks and machine guns. I have hated having to lug my M4 around everywhere I have gone for the past 15 months, but it has unconsciously become my security blanket. I recently traded in my M4 for a pistol and I still find myself feeling a quick adrenaline surge when I think I have left my weapon somewhere. I sometimes say that when we get home, I would be fine not seeing any of these guys for a long time as I have been with them day and night for well over a year. I think that maybe I will miss them. They have been my only family since we started this adventure long ago. We have shared an extreme variable of emotions in such a short time and we have come to rely on each other for everything. I think it is the loss of brotherhood I will miss the most.