“I will not know whether I am ready until the first bullet whistles past my head... then I shall truly know who I am and what stuff I am made of.”
You are counting on the shooter missing.
I count on nothing, for nothing is certain in war. I am certain of my own mortality, as is the man shooting at me. Perhaps he will miss, perhaps not. My time will come when it is marked... How I exit this life is not so much important as how I choose to live it. All men must one day die.