I was stationed at Grand Forks Air Force Base, North Dakota for 7 fuckin years. I worked on that flightline, wrenching on the KC-135R and the B-1B in the middle of winter in -60 degree temps. Maintenance Ops could not officially send us inside till it was -65 degrees. yeah, 5 fuckin degrees difference. I remember one time trying to fix a fuel leak on a tanker and it was frickin cold. The wind was ripping from the north at about 40mph and the snow was swirling around my feet like desert sand. There was a valve or something leaking on the belly of the plane in this little access door and the only way to get to it was to take my arm out of my nice warm parka sleeve, my BDU shirt sleeve, and jam my arm up in that hole to reach the part. You only have about 10 minutes to work before you have to put your fuel soaked arm back in your jacket and warm it up again.
When you live and work in cold ass places like that, you often ask yourself things like..."what the fuck am I doing here?" or " who's fuckin bright idea was it to settle in a place this cold?" or "Shouldn't I have my bare feet in warm sand or mud right now?"
After my first winter there I spent the next 6 winters trying like hell to get stationed somewhere else.