NOT EVEN A ******* FRACTION OF THOSE I SAW DIE...
You are mistaking grumpy for sadness and the daily chronic pain from the physical wounds and the metal remaining in me that I carry each and every day of my life as a ******* reminder, try standing beside over sixty dead names that you knew, lived with laughed with, and watched DIE often as you tried your damned best to try and save them... to have to carry their heavy, dead, limp bodies and throw them into a helicopter while others are still firing at you, not to mention when you have to pickup pieces like of arms, legs, partial sculls and other human remains that were your friends a few minutes earlier... and the only ******* thing left is their name on a wall.
I just don't see the damn name I see their faces their bloody bodies, and remember the feel of the stiffness their blood left on what you are wearing along with the smell of blood for days later... its difficult for me to find humor, any humor in that!