Thought that this would be an interesting read.
Letter Home: Last Call
Mar, 2006 by Sgt. William Andrews, 3rd Infantry Division, Lutifiyah, Iraq
A soldier in Iraq misses the comforts of brewing. 
The old adage, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone,” rings in my head continuously as I pore over the myriad of pages from brewing magazines, product catalogs and homebrew clubs on the Internet. The clacking sound of the plastic airlock of my fermenter, at first nearly inaudible, grows into a thunderous stomp in my head as my concoction grows to life. The pungent smell of malt and hops that permeate the house on brew day seem to me like the fond memories of fresh-cut grass people recall when asked of childhood. And as these distant mental images and olfactory delights wash over me now, there are some of you out there who let your opportunities squander away. Your brew pots, bottles and kegs lay empty — dry as the Iraqi landscape that I now sit in day after brewless day.
The old adage, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone,” rings in my head continuously as I pore over the myriad of pages from brewing magazines, product catalogs and homebrew clubs on the Internet. The clacking sound of the plastic airlock of my fermenter, at first nearly inaudible, grows into a thunderous stomp in my head as my concoction grows to life. The pungent smell of malt and hops that permeate the house on brew day seem to me like the fond memories of fresh-cut grass people recall when asked of childhood. And as these distant mental images and olfactory delights wash over me now, there are some of you out there who let your opportunities squander away. Your brew pots, bottles and kegs lay empty — dry as the Iraqi landscape that I now sit in day after brewless day. Read More at Brew Your Own
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