The boys around here call it "The Black Lagoon"; a paradise. Only they say nobody has ever come back to prove it.

I somehow missed that Garry Trudeau had been running a little milblog called The Sandbox.

There are some really moving stories written by our troops in Afganhistan and Iraq talking about what they face day to day chronicled there.

This bit by LT Carl Goforth writing about a return from Iraq really choked me up-

"Saturday morning landing in Cherry Point, North Carolina. The cheers and clapping bring the plane to a roaring good touchdown. Flight crew laughing and clapping right along with us. After unloading and loading our gear several more times on the flight line, we board buses for the hour ride to Camp Lejune.

Families are there waiting. We coordinate to make sure new Dads get off the buses first. And there we are: exhausted, soaked in sweat, and smelling up the bus like a petting zoo.

Nobody cares. Buses roll up. Wives are holding their cheeks, crying and trembling in their beautiful summer dresses. Dads rush off first with laughing and running children jumping into their arms. Moms join the fray. A few parents make it too, and they stand patiently in the back waving little American flags. I hang back a minute or so, just taking it all in. A Rockwellian moment comes to life outside my little bus window.

And right here, right now: all somehow seems right in the world."

More than anything I wish that story could be repeated 140,000 plus times in the months ahead.