Epilogue

I think it's time for me to stop writing here. 

The stylistic concept I strive for in just about everything is simplicity via elegance - say what you need to say with minimal words, but make each word as full of impact as possible.  This concept extends to the music I write as well.

In the course of the relatively short time I was deployed, I didn't write about everything that happened or everything I felt. I wanted to save what I wrote for when I actually had something to say rather than flooding the internet with more meaningless drivel than it already has.  The war for me, for now, has ended, and so in the interest of brevity I'd rather let my work stand as it is than push it past its welcome.  

Again, I want to thank everyone for their comments, positive thoughts, and well wishes throughout this whole thing.  Writing provided a constructive form of escape that I was happy to share with others, far more than I'd originally anticipated.  If you'd like to read what I have to say when I'm not, you know, in Iraq, then feel free to follow me elsewhere. 

Trieste-Zurich-Baquoba 1914-2008

Timeless

My watch broke. And not my digital Iraq watch (now rather sandy), but my nice watch that I left in my dresser before I left and was irrationally excited to wear once I came back. Over the course of a few days I noticed that it was slowing down, and then one day it just stopped ticking. I still wear it, somewhat defiantly, but more as a personal ornament than an actual timepiece despite the frequency with which I catch myself checking it.  

Friday night I went out with a few friends to Amberg, a wonderful town about half an hour from where I live. Take what you might imagine a German town to look like – cobblestone walkways, old churches, classic architecture – and you’re probably not far off. In fact, here’s a picture!

After wandering around drinking for several hours, we walked back to a friend of a friend’s house and crashed for the night. I woke up the next morning a few minutes before anyone else did and decided to amuse myself by taking Waiting for Godot off the bookshelf.  I then glanced over at my broken watch, lying still on the coffee table next to the couch on which I had just finished sleeping. For a second I thought it had jumped back into time’s arrow, but it hadn’t. I stared at it for another minute before putting it back on my wrist and turning the next page of the play. 

Mystery Revealed

For those of you who don't already know me and wonder what I look like, wonder no more!

That's me on the left.  

Fall Back

{As promised, this is what I wrote just minutes after walking into my apartment on my first day back.}

And all of a sudden, it was over.  

One moment we were sitting around in Kuwait, the dust and sand still touching every fabric of our lives.  Then, as we flew over Germany, brilliant green grass and autumn tinted trees came into view.  Red tiled houses dotted the countryside, a dark mist settled into the valleys between the rolling hills.  We were back.  

As I walked down the steps of the plane the air felt crisp and cool.  A light rain drizzled, in my mind the very same rain that was with us at Warhorse, then Balad, and down into Kuwait.  I like to think it followed us back just to make sure we got home safe.  

Now that we're here, we celebrate our return.  We mourn those who did not return with us.  We remember that many of us are still there.  

Since 2003 American soldiers have been deployed to Iraq, and slightly longer in Afghanistan.   And unless you had a family member or close friend actually there, you didn't really pay a whole lot of attention to it all.  Sure, you watched the news and read reports in the paper whenever they came out, but over time they have quietly drifted into the back of our society's collective consciousness.  I've known a few people who deployed before I did, and even then I only gave it casual thoughts whenever nothing more important occupied my mind.  I never really thought about the people who were there and what they were going through on a daily basis.

Now I will never stop. 

Change I Can Believe In

Despite appearances, I have not fallen off the face of the earth, nor have I passed out in a drunken stupor from barrels of German beer only to find I'm in a town I've never heard of surrounded by people I've never met and wondering why I have no pants....yet.

I've been back in Germany for a little over a week now, and it's every bit as awesome as it was before, probably more. Unfortunately, I've had limited internet access - including none at my actual house - and so haven't been able to upload any of the entries I've written over the last week. I would just sit here and rewrite them, but I spent some good time crafting them (especially the very first one which I wrote minutes after coming home) and would rather wait until I can post that than try to recreate it. I had an interesting one for my birthday a few days ago, but there wasn't anything there that I haven't written here.

Readjusting to life again has been easier than I imagined, mostly. Civilization, where I've spent the vast majority of my life, hasn't really changed all that much. It didn't take long to reacquaint myself with a language I already know, using my own bathroom (and potable water from the sink!), and eating meat not fashioned from goats, among a myriad other small things that make daily living immeasurably better.

Admittedly there are times when it's a bit too much to take in all at once, and I have to slow down and let the world catch up. I don't like when doors slam loudly. I continually search for a rifle I no longer have. I touch my hand to my heart after shaking peoples' hands. And I've tried to haggle with cashiers at department stores. In time, I'm sure these will transition from actions into memories, but for now I'll just have to deal with them.

Now that I'm back, it feels inconceivable that I was ever there. The dream from which I thought I would never wake has ended, and I'm left with several hundred pictures, some stolen chai glasses, and a comically large Iraqi flag to prove that I was in fact there. I'm glad it's over, I'm glad it happened, and I look forward to whatever comes next.

Stranger in a Strange Land

The United States Army came into existence on June 14, 1775. Large scale conflict and troop movements date thousands of years before that. So you'd think someone, somewhere would have this figured out by now.

Nope.

Despite still being relatively new at this little game, I've always maintained that the Army operates - and maybe even depends - on the assumption that somebody somewhere knows what the hell is going on. Quite often, that assumption is almost laughably incorrect, and it leads to various minor inconveniences (which is a wonderful euphemism for a number of words oft repeated by soldiers, my favorite of which begins with the word "cluster.")

In case you are wondering where today's healthy dose of cynicism stems from, it is because I am writing from Camp Virginia, Kuwait, where hopes are dashed and dreams come to die. Originally I was supposed to be drunk on German beer at this very moment, but the Big Green Machine had different plans for us. Due to some clusterf...*ahem*...minor incovenience at a higher level, it seems that someone (that very someone!) forgot to include seats for an entire squadron of soldiers, and thus exists a bottleneck stuck in the sand waiting to charter out of this part of the world long ignored by the that which is good in life. I'm probably oversimplifying the actual problem, but chances are I'm not too far off.

Leave it to me to find a bit of humor within this mess though. When we first got here, after loading and unloading bags countless times, standing around for endless roll calls, and finally wheeling through the gate, we had predictably missed dinner (the Army hates fatties, remember?). So a convoy of hungry people were standing in line waiting for the bright shining beacon of McDonalds (!) in the middle of the desert. Those who were lucky enough to already have their food were seated beneath a small roofed area, much like at a park somewhere on the other side of the universe. Curious lightning streaked through the clouds, racing to leave even faster than we were. Moments later it began to rain, light at first but steadily increasing. Smug, I sat at a dry bench dodging most of the rain, thinking how fortunate I was that it wasn't falling on me. Seconds later, the drizzle became a downpour, and a roof that, in retrospect, was obviously built to fight the sun and not the rain gave way and began to leak everywhere, soaking everyone underneath, and also their burgers and fries.


The absurdity of a thunderstorm in the desert is a perfect example of just how crazy this entire place still seems to me. Every night I go to sleep expecting to wake up and find out that it was all a dream. But then I remember what a lame, overused plot device that is, so I stick it out to the next day.

A (Few) Day's Kuwait

The last few days have consisted of having various awards formations that last entirely too long, lessons from nearly every senior leader in the unit about not getting drunk and beating your wife back in Germany, and a whole lot of nothing else. Fortunately, I'm not married, so I only have to worry about getting drunk and beating someone else's wife.

In the very near future I'll be back in Kuwait, where this trainwreck began. Like many others, I couldn't wait to leave it for Iraq on the way in. Now I can't wait to leave Iraq to get to Kuwait. It's not ironic, it's just how it is.

There will undoubtedly be bullshit along the way. With the Army, there always is. Simple tasks often require seemingly Herculean efforts to complete, and suggesting better ways to do things to anyone who outranks you generally brings scorn and leaves you feeling like a dog who fetched yesterday's newspaper. Good ideas tend not to be part of the Army mantra, unless the person who asked for one is the person who comes up with it.

But it doesn't matter. We're days away from Germany, a land free of war and destruction and intolerance and....oh wait. A land of beer!