A Journey into the Desert: The Beginning of My Combatant Life A few years back, on this very day, I stepped into a vast, far-flung desert—my first posting as a combatant after enduring the rigorous grind of training. It was 2 a.m., the desert winter biting through our bones, as a batch of faujis, including me, deboarded into the unknown. "Saabji, pehla posting hai kya? Let me help you out," came a deep voice. A tall Sardar extended his hand, hauling me and my luggage into a three-tonner truck. Before I could properly thank him, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone in the back of the truck, wrapped in my bedding. Sleep came in fragments, interrupted by the sheer excitement of stepping into this new world. But just before dawn, a loud voice shook me awake. "Oye Saabji, chai piyo... chalte hain... subah ho gaya... aane wali train late hai!" Groggy but alert, I sat up, realizing that dawn had not yet broken. The darkness still ruled, but we had to move. As we traversed an endless stretch of wheat fields for almost an hour, the reality of my new life sank in. This was my beginning as an air warrior. That chilly winter morning, the first sip of army chai, the long journey through the silent fields—it all feels like yesterday. Today, as I sit back, earning a hefty pension and doing absolutely nothing, I can't help but laugh. What a journey it has been!