>>626066
Censor that!
For real though, can't you remember the times you crawled through mud, or had to dig a foxhole, or get a vehicle unstuck. And afterwards you were covered in a layer of thick mud mixed with leaves and maybe a branch or two.
You had fun, you were doing actual work, you went out and did what you were training for all these past years. You actually put to use your skills and strength, your mind and body. You are tired and it shows.
So you take one of your hands and use it like a spatula to scrape off the worst of it, so now you have an entire hand full of mud. And you shake it, and it falls off, and in a loud splat it hits the ground, as if you had slapped your girlfriend's ass, or mother slams a clump of dough onto the table to get the air out.
Then you continue scraping off the mud, but no moment afterwards feels nearly as satisfying as that initial scrape.
When you get back to base, still looking like you went wrestling with a hog, you march like a hero towards the cleaning area to get a full-body hose down. As you pass your commander, you salute, and he salutes back and smiles, knowing that you were out doing important shit, that you didn't hold back, that some dirt and mud didn't stop you. You know why he is smiling. He is proud of you. Your stride becomes even more energetic.
When you get to the cleaning area, a comrade takes up the hose and gives you a throughout wash. They help you with the worst of it. The cold water gets your thoughts back into reality, into the here and now, makes you aware of your sore body once more. You can feel the work you did that day, you can feel it in your joints, your muscles and your back.
After that you head to the barracks, undress, clean your gear and take a shower. No matter if it's cold or hot, soap or no soap, it feels good. You never feel clean unless you have been truly dirty. Once you get out and dry up, you feel like you have been born a new man.
And that's why I love mud.