Yes, I am still here..AND yes, I am still writing. My Army journey is almost over, so there will be an encompassing follow up to my experience as a whole as I leave Fort Campbell. Basically I could not find anything significant to write about when I was still at Tarin Kowt the last few months. If there were any major events since my last posting, then where would have been another post by now. Sure, we were attacked every now and then, but nothing like Salerno except the one that flew right over my head. Obviously I made it home safely and am currently going through the process to separate from the military service. Jill and I had a great Christmas with the family, and I am constantly thinking about our guys who are still over there, even as I type this. Myself and two buddies came home early because we have nearly fulfilled our contracts and have to have the proper amount of time to get everything done for separation. Anyway, I just wanted everyone to know that I have not forgotten about this little project and it will be completed. Thank you for reading.
Cheers,
-J
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Lost in the Sauce
I haven’t written in awhile, as usual. But it’s because I have not felt inspired to write, and for several reasons. Mostly because I have not been in the right frame of mind to write anything positive or to coherently recall my experiences thus far without adding a tinge of negativity to positively everything I can think of about where I am and what I am doing. I’ll try and just cover what’s been going on around here.
Remember that boardwalk I mentioned in my last post that resembled a college block party at Kandahar Air Base? Shortly after my post it was discovered that a suicide bomber was walking along that very same place and decided that he didn’t want to die, and was apprehended. That VERY same place where I had been walking a couple of weeks prior; how in the world did he get on base in the first place? Without knowing all of the details I can’t speculate, but I can tell you this: I’m going to avoid that boardwalk next time I’m in town.
I think that the Taliban have some sort of grudge with the 101st Airborne Division. When the 82nd was here they scoffed at how they had only been attacked a few times during the entire tour. As soon as they left we got hit several times with rockets and mortars; one in particular that was too close for comfort. It was dark, and almost time to go on shift. As I walked out the door there was a loud BOOM somewhere behind our living area. Being all too familiar with the sound, I headed for cover. Somehow I ended up with a corndog in my hand and began running to the other side of our area to meet up with the guys. Upon reaching the adjacent bunker a loud, deep whistle and a WHOOSH sounded over head, followed by a forceful explosion. The rocket landed no more than 60 meters from us with a violent concussion. The shockwave spread quickly and as it passed through us I could see other soldiers’ clothes move as if blown by wind. Sparks spewed from the area and then silence, except for the sound of debris raining down on us and the roofs of our cubicle rooms. That’s the closest call I’ve had so far.
An attack at the airfield sends us to designated fighting positions scattered strategically along the aircraft parking areas, so that we can monitor what little wall we have keeping the outside world outside (that wall being a continuous line of Hesco Barriers around the FOB perimeter, some 250 meters from our fighting position). Upon hearing a blast and an alarm one night, several other soldiers and I suited up with body armor, grabbed our weapons, hopped into a gator and sped out to a bunker, where our fighting position sat nestled on top. We got set up quickly with an M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, one M4 mounted with an M230 grenade launcher, three other M4’s locked and loaded, night vision goggles, and an assortment of grenades. I peeled my eyes so I could see to that Hesco wall, waiting for someone to try and come over it. Anything that moves over that wall gets killed. We monitored our radio for any transmissions regarding enemy movement, but there were none. Eventually, an “all clear” sounded across the freq and we disappointedly packed our weapons on to the gator and drove back. I’ve had a couple of experiences like that, but as for excitement, that’s about as good as it gets.
The hardest thing for me to get over out here is that Tarin Kowt is nothing like Salerno was. The tempo was upbeat, the mission clear. We knew what we had to do, and there was always something TO do. Danger was ever present, as I recall by reading all of my old posts. Perhaps it was because our last FOB was on the Pakistani border, or perhaps it’s because of the recent change in ROE to try and fend off civilian casualties during operations. Whatever the case may be, things have changed dramatically since our last tour. A buddy of mine said it best tonight when he said “this isn’t a war anymore; it’s a game.” He was referring to how our operations have changed from trying to destroy the Taliban to somehow negotiating with them. The thought of this angers me to no end, as I thought we didn’t negotiate with terrorists. Through offers of land development and job opportunities, among other things, the government of Afghanistan seeks to soak the terrorist back into society in hopes that fighting will cease. Let’s take a look at the real world for a moment and what’s really going on. The local populace does not want us here; if they cooperate with NATO forces they’ll most likely lose their heads. The Taliban does not want us here, Captain Obvious, and we are getting NOWHERE with anything we are doing. In fact, what ARE we doing? We kill some of them, and they kill some of us. There are patrols, ambushes, collateral damage and scolding by a weak Afghani leader who threatened to join the Taliban himself! We surge and then the Army orders our brigade commander to send 400 troops home. What the HELL is going on? Why am I here? All I know right now is that the American taxpayers are dumping a ton of money into a campaign that is not producing. I miss my wife. I miss her terribly, and I miss my family too. Sometimes I sit here for 12 hours and do absolutely nothing. It angers me to no end. I could be at home with my beautiful wife. All of this is stress on a new marriage. Nine months left is all I keep thinking, and then I am finished with the Army. But then I remember. The same thing I always tell myself, and was reminded of by a newspaper article I read recently on Heroes of Afghanistan: We keep at bay a relentless force that would like nothing better than to bring their fight directly to the heart of our American Homeland. We are definitely keeping them at bay…so if that is our only true mission, then so be it. Politics and all other BS aside, what it always comes back to is family. I don’t do this in hopes of spreading democracy in Afghanistan. The people here just want to live their lives unbothered by war and fear, as I want to live mine.
So if I sit here for 12 hours and nothing happens, then OK. I’m still alive at least, and everyone is still at home, not having given up on me. I don’t want Afghanistan to turn into the next Vietnam. We need to stay until the job is done, but I’m not even sure if we know what the job is anymore. I pray that our higher leaders will find some sort of direction and we can end this war with some sort of positive outcome. We don’t want to wonder what our mission is anymore; we want to know it and we want to execute flawlessly like we’ve been trained to do. AND then we want to come home and kiss our wives and call it a day. We did what we could, spilled blood, and sacrificed it all in the name of our flag. We helped as many people as we could while keeping our own nation safe. Can we please have our lives back now? I hope so. I love my country and I love the men and women who sacrifice it all to come over here. I just hope that it doesn’t end in vain. Progress, please show your face. We need you now more than ever.
Cheers,
-J
Remember that boardwalk I mentioned in my last post that resembled a college block party at Kandahar Air Base? Shortly after my post it was discovered that a suicide bomber was walking along that very same place and decided that he didn’t want to die, and was apprehended. That VERY same place where I had been walking a couple of weeks prior; how in the world did he get on base in the first place? Without knowing all of the details I can’t speculate, but I can tell you this: I’m going to avoid that boardwalk next time I’m in town.
I think that the Taliban have some sort of grudge with the 101st Airborne Division. When the 82nd was here they scoffed at how they had only been attacked a few times during the entire tour. As soon as they left we got hit several times with rockets and mortars; one in particular that was too close for comfort. It was dark, and almost time to go on shift. As I walked out the door there was a loud BOOM somewhere behind our living area. Being all too familiar with the sound, I headed for cover. Somehow I ended up with a corndog in my hand and began running to the other side of our area to meet up with the guys. Upon reaching the adjacent bunker a loud, deep whistle and a WHOOSH sounded over head, followed by a forceful explosion. The rocket landed no more than 60 meters from us with a violent concussion. The shockwave spread quickly and as it passed through us I could see other soldiers’ clothes move as if blown by wind. Sparks spewed from the area and then silence, except for the sound of debris raining down on us and the roofs of our cubicle rooms. That’s the closest call I’ve had so far.
An attack at the airfield sends us to designated fighting positions scattered strategically along the aircraft parking areas, so that we can monitor what little wall we have keeping the outside world outside (that wall being a continuous line of Hesco Barriers around the FOB perimeter, some 250 meters from our fighting position). Upon hearing a blast and an alarm one night, several other soldiers and I suited up with body armor, grabbed our weapons, hopped into a gator and sped out to a bunker, where our fighting position sat nestled on top. We got set up quickly with an M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, one M4 mounted with an M230 grenade launcher, three other M4’s locked and loaded, night vision goggles, and an assortment of grenades. I peeled my eyes so I could see to that Hesco wall, waiting for someone to try and come over it. Anything that moves over that wall gets killed. We monitored our radio for any transmissions regarding enemy movement, but there were none. Eventually, an “all clear” sounded across the freq and we disappointedly packed our weapons on to the gator and drove back. I’ve had a couple of experiences like that, but as for excitement, that’s about as good as it gets.
The hardest thing for me to get over out here is that Tarin Kowt is nothing like Salerno was. The tempo was upbeat, the mission clear. We knew what we had to do, and there was always something TO do. Danger was ever present, as I recall by reading all of my old posts. Perhaps it was because our last FOB was on the Pakistani border, or perhaps it’s because of the recent change in ROE to try and fend off civilian casualties during operations. Whatever the case may be, things have changed dramatically since our last tour. A buddy of mine said it best tonight when he said “this isn’t a war anymore; it’s a game.” He was referring to how our operations have changed from trying to destroy the Taliban to somehow negotiating with them. The thought of this angers me to no end, as I thought we didn’t negotiate with terrorists. Through offers of land development and job opportunities, among other things, the government of Afghanistan seeks to soak the terrorist back into society in hopes that fighting will cease. Let’s take a look at the real world for a moment and what’s really going on. The local populace does not want us here; if they cooperate with NATO forces they’ll most likely lose their heads. The Taliban does not want us here, Captain Obvious, and we are getting NOWHERE with anything we are doing. In fact, what ARE we doing? We kill some of them, and they kill some of us. There are patrols, ambushes, collateral damage and scolding by a weak Afghani leader who threatened to join the Taliban himself! We surge and then the Army orders our brigade commander to send 400 troops home. What the HELL is going on? Why am I here? All I know right now is that the American taxpayers are dumping a ton of money into a campaign that is not producing. I miss my wife. I miss her terribly, and I miss my family too. Sometimes I sit here for 12 hours and do absolutely nothing. It angers me to no end. I could be at home with my beautiful wife. All of this is stress on a new marriage. Nine months left is all I keep thinking, and then I am finished with the Army. But then I remember. The same thing I always tell myself, and was reminded of by a newspaper article I read recently on Heroes of Afghanistan: We keep at bay a relentless force that would like nothing better than to bring their fight directly to the heart of our American Homeland. We are definitely keeping them at bay…so if that is our only true mission, then so be it. Politics and all other BS aside, what it always comes back to is family. I don’t do this in hopes of spreading democracy in Afghanistan. The people here just want to live their lives unbothered by war and fear, as I want to live mine.
So if I sit here for 12 hours and nothing happens, then OK. I’m still alive at least, and everyone is still at home, not having given up on me. I don’t want Afghanistan to turn into the next Vietnam. We need to stay until the job is done, but I’m not even sure if we know what the job is anymore. I pray that our higher leaders will find some sort of direction and we can end this war with some sort of positive outcome. We don’t want to wonder what our mission is anymore; we want to know it and we want to execute flawlessly like we’ve been trained to do. AND then we want to come home and kiss our wives and call it a day. We did what we could, spilled blood, and sacrificed it all in the name of our flag. We helped as many people as we could while keeping our own nation safe. Can we please have our lives back now? I hope so. I love my country and I love the men and women who sacrifice it all to come over here. I just hope that it doesn’t end in vain. Progress, please show your face. We need you now more than ever.
Cheers,
-J
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Boots on Ground....Again.
So here we are..in the blog, around the world. I won't bore you will details of how I got over here, because it is very similar to last time. Fly, stop, fly, stop, plane broke, hotel, fly..and eventually you get to where you need to be. I haven't written since January, and now it's almost April! The blog is back alive because if you didn't know, I am back in Afghanistan! Since January we did the rituals of preparation for one of the biggest troop surges in Afghanistan since we entered the country in 2001. And let me be the first to tell you, that being part of a troop surge is ugly.
It all started with me having to leave my family and my lovely wife, crying in an empty hangar as we all left on buses to gather our weapons and go to the terminal of Fort Campbell for departure. I learned that there is no use fighting back tears because they are coming one way or another. Especially when my beautiful wife is so sad and crying. It knots me up inside to have to leave her like that, and she is a hell of a woman for putting up with all of this. She has my undying gratitude for her support and love that she is giving me and I will never be able to fully repay her, or my family for everything they've done for me.
Fast forward through all the hoopla and I find myself at Kandahar Air Base. I always hate the big air bases like Bagram and this place because there are people everywhere. Foreign nationals, international soldiers, civilian contractors and the like. Because of the surge, everywhere is overcrowded and dirty. Transient living areas are packed to the max; members of a unit spread all over the base so that they can have some sort of roof over their head...whether it be a simple tent or a hardened building. Another thing I don't like about these places is that there are so many amenities that people forget where they are and why they're there. Kandahar Air Base has this place that they call the BOARDWALK....It's exactly what it sounds like....A boardwalk that goes in a square and has an open area in the middle. Along the boardwalk are shops and eateries to the likes of Burger Kings and Tim Horton's and guess what? They even have a TGI FRIDAYS! A freakin' TGI FRIDAYS in the middle of Afghanistan. I guess most people would be excited about that but all of this kind of pisses me off. In the middle open area are volleyball courts, basketball courts, and even a hockey rink. Of course there is no ice because it is hot, but the carnival-like atmosphere of this place is very off putting in my opinion. On some nights I went to the boardwalk and it seemed as if I were back in Oxford, Ohio during my college days. There are people walking around, sipping lattes and teas and having an exquisite time. There was even some Canadian rock band slinging horrible renditions of AC/DC songs, a true party. And perhaps a few miles away, our soldiers are engaged in a firefight and getting shot to shit. I find it truly awkward that two such extremes can be found within the vicinity of each other. There are so many war profiteers here that I am disgusted. Probably enough to send the real soldiers home and let the civilians figure out this conflict with their huge salaries. I could not wait to get the hell out of Kandahar.
When we did get out of there I was relieved. It's a 45 minute ride to FOB Tarin Kowt from the air base. Some of us were lucky enough to ride on an Australian Chinook to our final destination. The aircraft was fully loaded with bags and people; there was hardly any room to put my legs when I sat down because of the wall of "stuff." The Aussies have two Gatling Guns on either side and an M240B on the back ramp. About halfway into the flight the helicopter popped flares and all guns starting blaring. It was quite the spectacle. I'm pretty sure it was just a test fire, but nonetheless my heart was beating. One of the new platoon sergeants who had never been deployed before vomited on the ride over; I'm glad I'm not new to this.
As we came over a mountain I saw out the bubble window what appeared to be our destination: a large, dirt runway, big enough to land a C-17, surrounded by little towns that make up the FOB. I didn't think it was much to look at. When we landed we were briefed on the layout of the FOB and where we would stay. Everything we have now is new, because the unit we are replacing are the first Americans to stay at this outpost. This was mostly a Dutch base, and they are still here, but in small numbers. Now it is the Americans, Afghan National Army, Afghan National Police, and some special forces elements, along with some Navy and Air Force guys who operate UAVs. We are here to continue the fight.
I have to comment on how easy it was to slip back into deployment and soldier mode, and I am not the only one to say this. It felt like we were on vacation in America, and then we just came back here. I don't want to call this place home..it is a desolate wasteland. But there was some sense of comfort to be back. All of this is weird because I do not want to be here at ALL. I want to go home. I can't explain these feelings, but it made the transition easier.
For now, we are learning the daily operations of the FOB. There is really no outer fence, only some Hesco barriers. We are literally always outside the wire, just living in some random American compound within walking distance to the town of Tarin Kowt. We're currently building work areas for each of our shops and flight companies. We've made large floor frames and layed plywood flooring so that the tents will be up off the ground and we'll have solid, dry flooring to work with. After the tents go up on these platforms we'll build counters and work benches and desks. Our whole operation will come from the fruits of our labor, and it is quite satisfying. Hopefully we can create something that our replacing unit can appreciate; it's our chance to turn nothing into something.
That's all for now. I'll make updates with our construction, combat, and other aspects of the FOB. I miss my wife and my family. I hope that part of it gets easier, but I truly doubt it. Take care.
Respectfully,
-J
It all started with me having to leave my family and my lovely wife, crying in an empty hangar as we all left on buses to gather our weapons and go to the terminal of Fort Campbell for departure. I learned that there is no use fighting back tears because they are coming one way or another. Especially when my beautiful wife is so sad and crying. It knots me up inside to have to leave her like that, and she is a hell of a woman for putting up with all of this. She has my undying gratitude for her support and love that she is giving me and I will never be able to fully repay her, or my family for everything they've done for me.
Fast forward through all the hoopla and I find myself at Kandahar Air Base. I always hate the big air bases like Bagram and this place because there are people everywhere. Foreign nationals, international soldiers, civilian contractors and the like. Because of the surge, everywhere is overcrowded and dirty. Transient living areas are packed to the max; members of a unit spread all over the base so that they can have some sort of roof over their head...whether it be a simple tent or a hardened building. Another thing I don't like about these places is that there are so many amenities that people forget where they are and why they're there. Kandahar Air Base has this place that they call the BOARDWALK....It's exactly what it sounds like....A boardwalk that goes in a square and has an open area in the middle. Along the boardwalk are shops and eateries to the likes of Burger Kings and Tim Horton's and guess what? They even have a TGI FRIDAYS! A freakin' TGI FRIDAYS in the middle of Afghanistan. I guess most people would be excited about that but all of this kind of pisses me off. In the middle open area are volleyball courts, basketball courts, and even a hockey rink. Of course there is no ice because it is hot, but the carnival-like atmosphere of this place is very off putting in my opinion. On some nights I went to the boardwalk and it seemed as if I were back in Oxford, Ohio during my college days. There are people walking around, sipping lattes and teas and having an exquisite time. There was even some Canadian rock band slinging horrible renditions of AC/DC songs, a true party. And perhaps a few miles away, our soldiers are engaged in a firefight and getting shot to shit. I find it truly awkward that two such extremes can be found within the vicinity of each other. There are so many war profiteers here that I am disgusted. Probably enough to send the real soldiers home and let the civilians figure out this conflict with their huge salaries. I could not wait to get the hell out of Kandahar.
When we did get out of there I was relieved. It's a 45 minute ride to FOB Tarin Kowt from the air base. Some of us were lucky enough to ride on an Australian Chinook to our final destination. The aircraft was fully loaded with bags and people; there was hardly any room to put my legs when I sat down because of the wall of "stuff." The Aussies have two Gatling Guns on either side and an M240B on the back ramp. About halfway into the flight the helicopter popped flares and all guns starting blaring. It was quite the spectacle. I'm pretty sure it was just a test fire, but nonetheless my heart was beating. One of the new platoon sergeants who had never been deployed before vomited on the ride over; I'm glad I'm not new to this.
As we came over a mountain I saw out the bubble window what appeared to be our destination: a large, dirt runway, big enough to land a C-17, surrounded by little towns that make up the FOB. I didn't think it was much to look at. When we landed we were briefed on the layout of the FOB and where we would stay. Everything we have now is new, because the unit we are replacing are the first Americans to stay at this outpost. This was mostly a Dutch base, and they are still here, but in small numbers. Now it is the Americans, Afghan National Army, Afghan National Police, and some special forces elements, along with some Navy and Air Force guys who operate UAVs. We are here to continue the fight.
I have to comment on how easy it was to slip back into deployment and soldier mode, and I am not the only one to say this. It felt like we were on vacation in America, and then we just came back here. I don't want to call this place home..it is a desolate wasteland. But there was some sense of comfort to be back. All of this is weird because I do not want to be here at ALL. I want to go home. I can't explain these feelings, but it made the transition easier.
For now, we are learning the daily operations of the FOB. There is really no outer fence, only some Hesco barriers. We are literally always outside the wire, just living in some random American compound within walking distance to the town of Tarin Kowt. We're currently building work areas for each of our shops and flight companies. We've made large floor frames and layed plywood flooring so that the tents will be up off the ground and we'll have solid, dry flooring to work with. After the tents go up on these platforms we'll build counters and work benches and desks. Our whole operation will come from the fruits of our labor, and it is quite satisfying. Hopefully we can create something that our replacing unit can appreciate; it's our chance to turn nothing into something.
That's all for now. I'll make updates with our construction, combat, and other aspects of the FOB. I miss my wife and my family. I hope that part of it gets easier, but I truly doubt it. Take care.
Respectfully,
-J
Saturday, January 2, 2010
This Blog is Still Alive
Don't call it a comeback; I've been here for years. I've just been busy, that's all. With life. It can get pretty crazy, but I am glad that I can always come back and do some recollection, gather all of my thoughts, and try to put them in some kind of order.
The last half of the year has been wild. I think I left off last time while I was in NONCOM school or some time after that; I haven't looked at my last post since I read it. I ended up going to Colorado for high altitude training and had a real 'bang up' time, let me tell ya. Beautiful countryside though, and I got to see Cheyenne Mountain, where NORAD is. Luckily we were able to commandeer the 2nd Infantry Division's aircraft hangars and some of their equipment and parts. If we hadn't I think there would have been trouble because someone dropped the ball on packing. Anyways we had a hoot and I rode for hours on a Chinook and everything was peachy. Moving right along.
I guess I'll respond briefly to the shooting that took place at Fort Hood Texas by someone who was supposedly one of our own. One of our own would not have done such a thing, and I could make a wise ass crack at officers since the shooter was an everlovin' MAJOR, but it's pretty inappropriate seeing as how he took the lives of real soldiers. I won't even bring his religion or background into it; what happened was low down and dirty, and I guess you can't trust anyone these days. It's times like this when I'm glad that I'm hypersensitive to everything that's going on around me at all times. There's a better chance for survival that way, and I can thank Operation Enduring Freedom for that one.
Not only was I able to be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, which I thank God for a million times over, but I took a significant step in life and got married. I've mentioned Jill in some previous posts. She has done nothing but bring about the most positive in me, and has made my life a million times better. I am very lucky to stand beside her in life and call her my wife. We got hitched on December 12, 2009, and haven't looked back since. It's going to be extremely difficult to leave her come time to leave for Afghanistan for the second and final time, at least in this Sergeant's Army stint.
Now on to the grit that everyone loves to hear about: Afghanistan! The rumors always start to swirl about our heads some months before we actually leave, and I've heard a few whoppers. Of course I won't discuss them here, because some of them could turn out to be true, and we don't want to tell Osama what the screaming eagles are up to. The other day someone told me to be careful over there, and I said I would but I had been there before. I was told not to get too cocky. And although the person was right, I wanted to tell the individual to shove it right up their ass. I have been there before; I've done my part already, and I'll do it again. I'm proud of who we are, what we've become, and what lay before us. No matter what, we will get the job done.
I've been back for one year, and it is already time to go back! It's crazy how fast a year can go, and it was a great one. I worked hard, and I enjoyed myself too, thanks in part to my beautiful wife. A lot of the veterans who went to Iraq and Afghanistan with my outfit are now getting out, and it hurts to see them go. We've shared timeless moments together, but I am excited that they get to move on with their lives and definitely can't wait to see how they end up. At least they don't have to put their lives in extreme danger anymore going to foreign lands with rifles and boots. For that I am grateful.
This will be my last party for the Army. I'll be going over, and coming back early to start out processing. Even so, I will still be over there for a considerable amount of time, which doesn't bother me except for the fact that I am now married. I hate putting my family through rough times, and if there were any way for me to make them not worry I would. So, for the new year, I hope that 2010 goes by quickly.
I find myself being more antsy this time than last. I don't know if it's the anxiety of 'let's just get this show on the road' or if it's something else. It would be a damn shame for me to get by for 5 years in the Army and then have something happen in the sixth. You can't really think like that though, or it will get the best of you. Sometimes the mind wanders more than it should, and you have to bring it back to a common place. Just do your job and shut up is my motto. Grin it and bare it. In every job in the army someone is depending on someone else, and as we all say...it's not about the politics....it's about the people beside you and those who depend on us. We tend to find comfort in others' discomfort; the fact that everyone you are with is going though the same thing somehow makes the job easier. We are going together, and we are coming home together. All of the leaders will see to it, myself included. I'm proud to be where I am, and damn proud to wear the patch I wear. My experiences have made me a better son, and a better human being for that matter. For that I am grateful. I know that many trials and tribulations await on the long road ahead.
General Bill Lee coined the phrase 'rendezvous with destiny' when the 101st Airborne Division was in its infancy before D-Day in WWII. And every time I want to complain about where I am or what I do, I read a few chapters from Band of Brothers or other books written by the 101st soldiers in WWII and I shut up quick. They had it rough; they were fighting to save the world. All I can say is, I'm glad I wasn't in Bastogne. The Battered Bastards of Bastogne still say they are glad not to be there to this day. They saved the world. What am I doing to save the world? I guess as long as we keep the fight overseas and off our shores we are doing something worthwhile. They can't come take down more of our buildings if we keep their hands full on their own turf. That's pretty much the only thing that gives it meaning to me. I don't give a damn about all of the politics and bureaucratic BS behind it. That all goes out the window, so it's that little bit of meaning that keeps it okay in my book to put me on a plane, and drop me off in the middle of nowhere for an entire year. Keep everyone safe here, and keep the memory of the fallen in our heads. People don't do this for nothin'; everyone has a reason. The world is a bad, bad place...but somewhere there is always someone with a good heart to fight the evil. I'm in the strong belief that light will always overcome darkness, no matter what. That's all for now.
Cheers,
-J
The last half of the year has been wild. I think I left off last time while I was in NONCOM school or some time after that; I haven't looked at my last post since I read it. I ended up going to Colorado for high altitude training and had a real 'bang up' time, let me tell ya. Beautiful countryside though, and I got to see Cheyenne Mountain, where NORAD is. Luckily we were able to commandeer the 2nd Infantry Division's aircraft hangars and some of their equipment and parts. If we hadn't I think there would have been trouble because someone dropped the ball on packing. Anyways we had a hoot and I rode for hours on a Chinook and everything was peachy. Moving right along.
I guess I'll respond briefly to the shooting that took place at Fort Hood Texas by someone who was supposedly one of our own. One of our own would not have done such a thing, and I could make a wise ass crack at officers since the shooter was an everlovin' MAJOR, but it's pretty inappropriate seeing as how he took the lives of real soldiers. I won't even bring his religion or background into it; what happened was low down and dirty, and I guess you can't trust anyone these days. It's times like this when I'm glad that I'm hypersensitive to everything that's going on around me at all times. There's a better chance for survival that way, and I can thank Operation Enduring Freedom for that one.
Not only was I able to be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, which I thank God for a million times over, but I took a significant step in life and got married. I've mentioned Jill in some previous posts. She has done nothing but bring about the most positive in me, and has made my life a million times better. I am very lucky to stand beside her in life and call her my wife. We got hitched on December 12, 2009, and haven't looked back since. It's going to be extremely difficult to leave her come time to leave for Afghanistan for the second and final time, at least in this Sergeant's Army stint.
Now on to the grit that everyone loves to hear about: Afghanistan! The rumors always start to swirl about our heads some months before we actually leave, and I've heard a few whoppers. Of course I won't discuss them here, because some of them could turn out to be true, and we don't want to tell Osama what the screaming eagles are up to. The other day someone told me to be careful over there, and I said I would but I had been there before. I was told not to get too cocky. And although the person was right, I wanted to tell the individual to shove it right up their ass. I have been there before; I've done my part already, and I'll do it again. I'm proud of who we are, what we've become, and what lay before us. No matter what, we will get the job done.
I've been back for one year, and it is already time to go back! It's crazy how fast a year can go, and it was a great one. I worked hard, and I enjoyed myself too, thanks in part to my beautiful wife. A lot of the veterans who went to Iraq and Afghanistan with my outfit are now getting out, and it hurts to see them go. We've shared timeless moments together, but I am excited that they get to move on with their lives and definitely can't wait to see how they end up. At least they don't have to put their lives in extreme danger anymore going to foreign lands with rifles and boots. For that I am grateful.
This will be my last party for the Army. I'll be going over, and coming back early to start out processing. Even so, I will still be over there for a considerable amount of time, which doesn't bother me except for the fact that I am now married. I hate putting my family through rough times, and if there were any way for me to make them not worry I would. So, for the new year, I hope that 2010 goes by quickly.
I find myself being more antsy this time than last. I don't know if it's the anxiety of 'let's just get this show on the road' or if it's something else. It would be a damn shame for me to get by for 5 years in the Army and then have something happen in the sixth. You can't really think like that though, or it will get the best of you. Sometimes the mind wanders more than it should, and you have to bring it back to a common place. Just do your job and shut up is my motto. Grin it and bare it. In every job in the army someone is depending on someone else, and as we all say...it's not about the politics....it's about the people beside you and those who depend on us. We tend to find comfort in others' discomfort; the fact that everyone you are with is going though the same thing somehow makes the job easier. We are going together, and we are coming home together. All of the leaders will see to it, myself included. I'm proud to be where I am, and damn proud to wear the patch I wear. My experiences have made me a better son, and a better human being for that matter. For that I am grateful. I know that many trials and tribulations await on the long road ahead.
General Bill Lee coined the phrase 'rendezvous with destiny' when the 101st Airborne Division was in its infancy before D-Day in WWII. And every time I want to complain about where I am or what I do, I read a few chapters from Band of Brothers or other books written by the 101st soldiers in WWII and I shut up quick. They had it rough; they were fighting to save the world. All I can say is, I'm glad I wasn't in Bastogne. The Battered Bastards of Bastogne still say they are glad not to be there to this day. They saved the world. What am I doing to save the world? I guess as long as we keep the fight overseas and off our shores we are doing something worthwhile. They can't come take down more of our buildings if we keep their hands full on their own turf. That's pretty much the only thing that gives it meaning to me. I don't give a damn about all of the politics and bureaucratic BS behind it. That all goes out the window, so it's that little bit of meaning that keeps it okay in my book to put me on a plane, and drop me off in the middle of nowhere for an entire year. Keep everyone safe here, and keep the memory of the fallen in our heads. People don't do this for nothin'; everyone has a reason. The world is a bad, bad place...but somewhere there is always someone with a good heart to fight the evil. I'm in the strong belief that light will always overcome darkness, no matter what. That's all for now.
Cheers,
-J
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Ramblings
The last time I wrote was July, and now it's September already! I really do mean to keep up with everything, but time just flies when you're having fun! I can't honestly say that I am having fun, but I'm still alive and kicking so that's good enough for me.
One of the main reasons I like to write in this blog during the "off season" as I like to call it, is because I'm able to keep up with the writing skills; it's true that if you do not use it, you lose it. So, as with anything, we have to keep the skills sharp. This is true for many things in the army too, such as shooting, physical training, etc.
The training season has been in effect for quite some time now. We've had several aerial gunneries and two JRTC training rotations to Louisiana. Upcoming events include high altitude training in Colorado and a joint service exercise in Nevada. While it would be impossible and exhausting to attend every event, I assure you that the wealth is well spread among all members of our beloved unit.
I am currently in Fort Eustis, Virginia for a Non Commissioned Officer leaders' course. It is also sort of a job refresher that advanced maintainers attend. It's supposed to prepare me for a job that I already do (technical inspector) but my skills are so finely tuned that I didn't need the course to become one ha! It's weird to come back here, as I was here in 2005 for advanced individual training after basic training. This is where the new soldiers come to learn about the AH-64D Apache and the job that will carry them through their time in the Army.
I must admit, it is nice to come back here as an NCO rather than a new army soldier, although this place has changed considerably since my last visit. The lack of discipline amongst the new soldiers is astounding; they've recently done away with drill sergeants in AIT to create an atmosphere that is supposedly more like the "real Army." All I feel is that these new privates are going to have a rude awakening when they reach their first assigned units. No worries though; there are plenty of good NCOs in the 101st that will be more than willing to get these privates ready for the upcoming deployment, myself included. This is my last HOORAH and I'll be damned if it goes bad because of some young buck.
We've been doing some physical training regimens here that put the PT program at Fort Campbell to shame. My body has been sore every day this week; the never ending pull ups and lap after lap in the meter pool is whipping me back into the kind of shape I was in after basic training. After the body has healed I'll feel like a renewed man. I must admit though, I am required to exert a considerably increased amount of effort to keep up with 23 year old Specialist Gratsch of four years ago! Getting older is not fun, but I am getting better looking by the day!
I've been here since August 20, and we get to leave September 23; time is slowly creeping. I am ready to see my girlfriend and get back to Fort Campbell. Unfortunately, 12 days after I get back I have to pack my bags again for a three week stint in Colorado. Lovely. I can't wait until this training season is over! I've been really thinking about Afghanistan a lot lately. I don't know if it's because I just want to get the whole thing started again or if I have a sense of anxiety about it. There's definitely a lot better things to write about, as I feel these posts are quite boring for readers. Dreams have even started to creep their way back in; nothing bad, just dreams about being over there and experiencing some of the things. OK, I guess rocket attacks are bad, but only if they hit something. If they don't it's simply a fireworks display. I guess I'm just ready to start the whole process over. At times, I can't help but feel I just got back. Then, there's a short pause, take a breath, and it's time to go back again!
That's about all I have for now. I remember in my old Afghanistan posts talking about how I wanted to be Sergeant Gratsch. Well, now Sergeant Gratsch wants to be Staff Sergeant Gratsch. Staff SGT is the highest an enlisted person can go in a six year army career, and that is now my new goal. I have already achieved a promotable status when I went to the promotion board in June, so now I just have to wait for the promotion points level to come down to the number of points I currently have. Luckily, upon completion of the course I'm currently in I'll earn more promotion points. Staff Sergeant lingers on the horizon.
On a more serious side note, I want to mention the anniversary of 9/11 that came and went during my stay in Virginia. It's hard to believe that it's already been eight years since that day, and what I am doing now in 2009 is a direct result of those terrible events. I am glad that I'm actually carrying out what I vowed to do that day; I'll never go back on anything that I plan to do. The guys and I were discussing what we were doing on that day, and it's very reminiscent of the attack on pearl harbor. The older generation can remember exactly what they were doing that day, and it's the same for myself and several others for the fall of the towers. People seem to only be concerned about it on the anniversary though; on that day we want to be charitable and honorable and have memorials. What about every other day of the year? This isn't a novelty. We should always remember these events, every day, and make it a goal to be good to each other and help and realize how awesome life can be. It's like the people who only go to church on Easter and Christmas. God is important on more than just those two days if you are truly committed.
All of this talk could go on to several more ramblings about our country and the government and everything else in the world, but in reality all we need to do is remember the past, learn from mistakes, and drive on. We might be down, but we are not out. I miss my family, my friends, and my lovely girlfriend. I want to go home; but we have to do what we have to do. America demands it. And we answer!
Cheers,
-J
One of the main reasons I like to write in this blog during the "off season" as I like to call it, is because I'm able to keep up with the writing skills; it's true that if you do not use it, you lose it. So, as with anything, we have to keep the skills sharp. This is true for many things in the army too, such as shooting, physical training, etc.
The training season has been in effect for quite some time now. We've had several aerial gunneries and two JRTC training rotations to Louisiana. Upcoming events include high altitude training in Colorado and a joint service exercise in Nevada. While it would be impossible and exhausting to attend every event, I assure you that the wealth is well spread among all members of our beloved unit.
I am currently in Fort Eustis, Virginia for a Non Commissioned Officer leaders' course. It is also sort of a job refresher that advanced maintainers attend. It's supposed to prepare me for a job that I already do (technical inspector) but my skills are so finely tuned that I didn't need the course to become one ha! It's weird to come back here, as I was here in 2005 for advanced individual training after basic training. This is where the new soldiers come to learn about the AH-64D Apache and the job that will carry them through their time in the Army.
I must admit, it is nice to come back here as an NCO rather than a new army soldier, although this place has changed considerably since my last visit. The lack of discipline amongst the new soldiers is astounding; they've recently done away with drill sergeants in AIT to create an atmosphere that is supposedly more like the "real Army." All I feel is that these new privates are going to have a rude awakening when they reach their first assigned units. No worries though; there are plenty of good NCOs in the 101st that will be more than willing to get these privates ready for the upcoming deployment, myself included. This is my last HOORAH and I'll be damned if it goes bad because of some young buck.
We've been doing some physical training regimens here that put the PT program at Fort Campbell to shame. My body has been sore every day this week; the never ending pull ups and lap after lap in the meter pool is whipping me back into the kind of shape I was in after basic training. After the body has healed I'll feel like a renewed man. I must admit though, I am required to exert a considerably increased amount of effort to keep up with 23 year old Specialist Gratsch of four years ago! Getting older is not fun, but I am getting better looking by the day!
I've been here since August 20, and we get to leave September 23; time is slowly creeping. I am ready to see my girlfriend and get back to Fort Campbell. Unfortunately, 12 days after I get back I have to pack my bags again for a three week stint in Colorado. Lovely. I can't wait until this training season is over! I've been really thinking about Afghanistan a lot lately. I don't know if it's because I just want to get the whole thing started again or if I have a sense of anxiety about it. There's definitely a lot better things to write about, as I feel these posts are quite boring for readers. Dreams have even started to creep their way back in; nothing bad, just dreams about being over there and experiencing some of the things. OK, I guess rocket attacks are bad, but only if they hit something. If they don't it's simply a fireworks display. I guess I'm just ready to start the whole process over. At times, I can't help but feel I just got back. Then, there's a short pause, take a breath, and it's time to go back again!
That's about all I have for now. I remember in my old Afghanistan posts talking about how I wanted to be Sergeant Gratsch. Well, now Sergeant Gratsch wants to be Staff Sergeant Gratsch. Staff SGT is the highest an enlisted person can go in a six year army career, and that is now my new goal. I have already achieved a promotable status when I went to the promotion board in June, so now I just have to wait for the promotion points level to come down to the number of points I currently have. Luckily, upon completion of the course I'm currently in I'll earn more promotion points. Staff Sergeant lingers on the horizon.
On a more serious side note, I want to mention the anniversary of 9/11 that came and went during my stay in Virginia. It's hard to believe that it's already been eight years since that day, and what I am doing now in 2009 is a direct result of those terrible events. I am glad that I'm actually carrying out what I vowed to do that day; I'll never go back on anything that I plan to do. The guys and I were discussing what we were doing on that day, and it's very reminiscent of the attack on pearl harbor. The older generation can remember exactly what they were doing that day, and it's the same for myself and several others for the fall of the towers. People seem to only be concerned about it on the anniversary though; on that day we want to be charitable and honorable and have memorials. What about every other day of the year? This isn't a novelty. We should always remember these events, every day, and make it a goal to be good to each other and help and realize how awesome life can be. It's like the people who only go to church on Easter and Christmas. God is important on more than just those two days if you are truly committed.
All of this talk could go on to several more ramblings about our country and the government and everything else in the world, but in reality all we need to do is remember the past, learn from mistakes, and drive on. We might be down, but we are not out. I miss my family, my friends, and my lovely girlfriend. I want to go home; but we have to do what we have to do. America demands it. And we answer!
Cheers,
-J
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Make it So
And yet again, it has been quite some time since I have posted on this thing; but I want to keep it ongoing, even though we are only still in garrison. I've been doing pretty well since my last post. I get to go home to Ohio often, as well as spend time with my girlfriend, which is a blessing. We spend as many weekends together as time and space allow us to, and we even got a chance to travel to Myrtle Beach. More often than not we speak of life after the Army, which makes it difficult to be IN the army. The mission continues; so must I.
One thing that has always bothered me is that I am getting older, and I have no claim. I have nothing to my name, except a blue 2002 Pontiac Trans Am that I love dearly. There's no house, no lawn, no family, no dog and no career. In terms of career moves, my six years in the Armed Forces was a bad choice. When I get out I will start anew, building from the ground up, lagging far far behind my peers from college, who've already settled into their careers and are protecting their nest egg. Living the dream. I want that dream so bad it hurts to think about it, as sometimes I feel like I am in prison. I live in a barracks with a bunch of young kids, many of which lack the discipline to be in the army at all. Because I am not married, I get no BAH (basic allowance for housing, extra $ to live) so that I can live off post in a house or apartment. Living off post is a bad idea without BAH (I did it in 2007). All it does it eat up savings and create a lot of unnecessary stress. I try to call the barracks a dorm to make myself feel better, but it never works because I'm too old to be living in a dorm as well! I try so hard to get this out of my head, but no matter what I feel like I deserve better than this. I've worked hard, and I've been through a lot, and all I have is a dorm room. So what I do, is I wake up every morning, grit my teeth, and say to myself, "you are saving a lot of money for your dream, and for your future family. Suck it up Jeremy." And that's what I do, because I made this choice, and I brought it all upon myself. Some day, I hope that it will all pay off somehow. After all, the Army is not my career choice. It's just a chapter in life I chose to read, so that there will be no doubt that I've earned my right to be a citizen of the United States of America, and helped in our ongoing mission against tyranny, terrorism, and inequality.
I've also been put into a new job; it is considered a promotion because of the responsibility entailed. No longer do I work on the systems of our beloved Apache, but I inspect and sign off on those who still do. Known as technical inspectors (T.I.), we are the last step in the maintenance scheme, deciding whether an aircraft is flyable or grounded, and if the work performed on the aircraft is to standard, allowing the Apache to return to "fully mission capable." It is an important job because we have the final say, but now I have no soldiers to take care of, and I've been moved to a different office obviously. Sure, I still see all of the guys I shared my life with in war all the time, but I don't lead them. There is no one for me to lead except myself. We must focus on the aircraft and nothing else, which is understandable. I do like my new job, but I miss my old one too.
With that said, I still hate garrison life. After being to war and back, I do not like being in a fighting unit that isn't fighting. Basically, our job means jack shit over here in the states, except for training up the new soldiers for the next rotation. Before, we had to work ourselves to the bone to get an aircraft up because it HAD to be on the next mission. Lack of a mission dictates that people become extremely complacent and find it hard to care about their job at all. To make matters worse, we recently found out that the less than ideal aircraft we fell in on back here at Ft. Campbell will not even be accompanying us back to war! The diligent effort put into making these crates airworthy has turned them into nothing more than training pieces. That's just a hit in the groin.
The training season has officially started, and you can hear the veterans' moans when they have to leave their families here at Ft. Campbell to travel to some place like Louisiana for war time training. I'll be heading to Fort Knox and a base in Las Vegas for similar training later this year. My next focus is a Non Commissioned Officer school that I'm attending. One phase of the class is here at Ft. Campbell; no big deal. Upon completion, I'm traveling back to my old stomping grounds at Ft. Eustis, VA for another phase of the course that lasts one month.
We do so much training away from Campbell that we might as well go back to Afghanistan right now; we are going back anyways. At least over there everything we do means something. We can save lives, and take ones that need to be taken. We can make a difference instead of sitting on our thumbs. And, on top of that, we get good pay. More money means a better chance of my dream coming true later on. While I am not trying to get blown up, there are low points where I miss the action and the excitement of certain events. I want to get it over with, because this next rotation is my last HOORAH, and then I part ways with the Army forever. Something so sweet, just out of reach. I'll never forget my roots though, and why I joined in the first place. There is an ongoing mission; one that I can only participate in for so long. After that, someone will fill my boots and carry on. Hopefully, that person is a patriot. Until then, we give all that we have. We sacrifice and commit. Like I said before, I'm not anxious to die....only anxious to matter. Thank you for letting me vent; I rise anew.
Cheers,
-J
Here is a photo of Jill and I at Myrtle Beach. We had a great time!
One thing that has always bothered me is that I am getting older, and I have no claim. I have nothing to my name, except a blue 2002 Pontiac Trans Am that I love dearly. There's no house, no lawn, no family, no dog and no career. In terms of career moves, my six years in the Armed Forces was a bad choice. When I get out I will start anew, building from the ground up, lagging far far behind my peers from college, who've already settled into their careers and are protecting their nest egg. Living the dream. I want that dream so bad it hurts to think about it, as sometimes I feel like I am in prison. I live in a barracks with a bunch of young kids, many of which lack the discipline to be in the army at all. Because I am not married, I get no BAH (basic allowance for housing, extra $ to live) so that I can live off post in a house or apartment. Living off post is a bad idea without BAH (I did it in 2007). All it does it eat up savings and create a lot of unnecessary stress. I try to call the barracks a dorm to make myself feel better, but it never works because I'm too old to be living in a dorm as well! I try so hard to get this out of my head, but no matter what I feel like I deserve better than this. I've worked hard, and I've been through a lot, and all I have is a dorm room. So what I do, is I wake up every morning, grit my teeth, and say to myself, "you are saving a lot of money for your dream, and for your future family. Suck it up Jeremy." And that's what I do, because I made this choice, and I brought it all upon myself. Some day, I hope that it will all pay off somehow. After all, the Army is not my career choice. It's just a chapter in life I chose to read, so that there will be no doubt that I've earned my right to be a citizen of the United States of America, and helped in our ongoing mission against tyranny, terrorism, and inequality.
I've also been put into a new job; it is considered a promotion because of the responsibility entailed. No longer do I work on the systems of our beloved Apache, but I inspect and sign off on those who still do. Known as technical inspectors (T.I.), we are the last step in the maintenance scheme, deciding whether an aircraft is flyable or grounded, and if the work performed on the aircraft is to standard, allowing the Apache to return to "fully mission capable." It is an important job because we have the final say, but now I have no soldiers to take care of, and I've been moved to a different office obviously. Sure, I still see all of the guys I shared my life with in war all the time, but I don't lead them. There is no one for me to lead except myself. We must focus on the aircraft and nothing else, which is understandable. I do like my new job, but I miss my old one too.
With that said, I still hate garrison life. After being to war and back, I do not like being in a fighting unit that isn't fighting. Basically, our job means jack shit over here in the states, except for training up the new soldiers for the next rotation. Before, we had to work ourselves to the bone to get an aircraft up because it HAD to be on the next mission. Lack of a mission dictates that people become extremely complacent and find it hard to care about their job at all. To make matters worse, we recently found out that the less than ideal aircraft we fell in on back here at Ft. Campbell will not even be accompanying us back to war! The diligent effort put into making these crates airworthy has turned them into nothing more than training pieces. That's just a hit in the groin.
The training season has officially started, and you can hear the veterans' moans when they have to leave their families here at Ft. Campbell to travel to some place like Louisiana for war time training. I'll be heading to Fort Knox and a base in Las Vegas for similar training later this year. My next focus is a Non Commissioned Officer school that I'm attending. One phase of the class is here at Ft. Campbell; no big deal. Upon completion, I'm traveling back to my old stomping grounds at Ft. Eustis, VA for another phase of the course that lasts one month.
We do so much training away from Campbell that we might as well go back to Afghanistan right now; we are going back anyways. At least over there everything we do means something. We can save lives, and take ones that need to be taken. We can make a difference instead of sitting on our thumbs. And, on top of that, we get good pay. More money means a better chance of my dream coming true later on. While I am not trying to get blown up, there are low points where I miss the action and the excitement of certain events. I want to get it over with, because this next rotation is my last HOORAH, and then I part ways with the Army forever. Something so sweet, just out of reach. I'll never forget my roots though, and why I joined in the first place. There is an ongoing mission; one that I can only participate in for so long. After that, someone will fill my boots and carry on. Hopefully, that person is a patriot. Until then, we give all that we have. We sacrifice and commit. Like I said before, I'm not anxious to die....only anxious to matter. Thank you for letting me vent; I rise anew.
Cheers,
-J
Here is a photo of Jill and I at Myrtle Beach. We had a great time!
Monday, May 4, 2009
One Mountain After Another
I promised that I would keep writing while being garrisoned at Ft. Campbell, so I am holding true to that. While I have nothing in particular that I would like to say, I think that it's nice to keep everyone updated on what's going on with the 101st Airborne Division and Sergeant Gratsch.
We've been back on American soil for a little over 4 months now, and I must say that it has been rather nice. I am not a fan of garrison life simply because there is not much action; we just go to work and do random training events, and eventually we find out when we are leaving again. We found out in March that we'd be heading back for another trial with destiny in March or April 2010. This will be my last big hoorah, because by the time we get back my time in the Army will be over. During the next few months, and probably the rest of the year, the training will be heavy, and the reward will be small. Such is the life we volunteered to live.
I'm pretty sure that I've fully transitioned back to the pseudo regular life that I had before I left for war. I had trouble sleeping upon my return, and I had a few weird dreams, but other than that everything seems to be fine. What's not fine is the constant struggle I have with myself in trying to live the semblance of a regular civilian life I have developed such a strong appetite for. I have a wonderful girl in my life named Jill, and I want nothing more than to spend as much time as possible with her. I've never felt so strongly about anyone or anything in my life as I do for her. She saved me from my darkest hour in the worst possible situation, in the worst possible place in this world, and I can never repay her. All I can do is devote as much of myself as I can to her. Each weekend I see her is like living little slices of the life that I want so badly. I just keep walking, keep climbing over mountains, hoping to find the one that doesn't have another one after it. Flatland; back to normality. No more wars. Sometime I will put my boots in the closet and that will be that.
We've been working diligently to turn the helicopters we were given back into war ready fighting machines. Slowly but surely we are turning water to wine, and it will be another twenty-four off to war.
There's really nothing else to write about. The heavy training starts soon, along with the concern of who, what, when where, why and how. I feel like an old vet now for some reason...I'm not the new guy anymore. I'm in the knowing, and there are many new soldiers who need training and who need to learn the Army way. I'm the old, tough son of a you-know-what at 27 years old. Someone has to take the torch when I'm ready to pass it, so we need to make sure that it's left in good hands. The war does not end with me. And someday I'll be sitting on some dusty porch somewhere reminiscing about wearing stripes in America's Army.
Cheers,
-J
We've been back on American soil for a little over 4 months now, and I must say that it has been rather nice. I am not a fan of garrison life simply because there is not much action; we just go to work and do random training events, and eventually we find out when we are leaving again. We found out in March that we'd be heading back for another trial with destiny in March or April 2010. This will be my last big hoorah, because by the time we get back my time in the Army will be over. During the next few months, and probably the rest of the year, the training will be heavy, and the reward will be small. Such is the life we volunteered to live.
I'm pretty sure that I've fully transitioned back to the pseudo regular life that I had before I left for war. I had trouble sleeping upon my return, and I had a few weird dreams, but other than that everything seems to be fine. What's not fine is the constant struggle I have with myself in trying to live the semblance of a regular civilian life I have developed such a strong appetite for. I have a wonderful girl in my life named Jill, and I want nothing more than to spend as much time as possible with her. I've never felt so strongly about anyone or anything in my life as I do for her. She saved me from my darkest hour in the worst possible situation, in the worst possible place in this world, and I can never repay her. All I can do is devote as much of myself as I can to her. Each weekend I see her is like living little slices of the life that I want so badly. I just keep walking, keep climbing over mountains, hoping to find the one that doesn't have another one after it. Flatland; back to normality. No more wars. Sometime I will put my boots in the closet and that will be that.
We've been working diligently to turn the helicopters we were given back into war ready fighting machines. Slowly but surely we are turning water to wine, and it will be another twenty-four off to war.
There's really nothing else to write about. The heavy training starts soon, along with the concern of who, what, when where, why and how. I feel like an old vet now for some reason...I'm not the new guy anymore. I'm in the knowing, and there are many new soldiers who need training and who need to learn the Army way. I'm the old, tough son of a you-know-what at 27 years old. Someone has to take the torch when I'm ready to pass it, so we need to make sure that it's left in good hands. The war does not end with me. And someday I'll be sitting on some dusty porch somewhere reminiscing about wearing stripes in America's Army.
Cheers,
-J
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
