November 15, 2005
Soldier's Story
I have come to realize that, despite my will to hold on to my former self, this war has forever altered my personality to the core. Of course, how could it not, but then again I was naive enough to believe no matter what happened in my military service I would remain steady. But it is not so. Loud noises will forever startle me, I have a heightened paranoia, and I will have an amazing tolerance to live in the most miserable conditions imaginable. Things will never be the same .
I dread hearing explosions. It isn't the bang or the boom that batman comics depict. It all depends on how close you are to it. If you are right there close enough to have to check yourself over to make sure all your pieces are in place and there are no blood spots to indicate even the tiniest BB sized shrapnel hadn't punctured through your body. Because, when severely wounded pain sometimes sets in long after the wound occurs. If you are that close you can almost here a ping of splitting metal and then just a deafening roar. You feel it more than hear it. The concussion reaches right up your puckered ass and gets a firm grip on your stomach and pulls with all its weight. A blast that doesn't knock you down leaves you breathless and shaken. Then silence. It is a confusing silence while your brain tries to register what had just happened and the concussion leaves you staggering. It could last all day or seconds and when the worlds noises return as an accelerated barrage of information that attracts your attention all at once in all directions. The near miss is sometimes better than the far away explosion. That is the deep bass thump that has a swosh and a rumble... You hope that the rising smoke on the horizon isn't a signal that a close friend has been killed. Since we learned that most explosive devices explode upwards in a cone it is safest at ground level. I will mostly likely embarrassingly dive to the ground every time a car backfires or a door slams.
I have learned from my short leave back to the States that my paranoia takes heavy effect in crowded public areas. I end up trying to spin around and around and I dislike having strangers close to me. I can't stand sitting with my back to a room or having a person stand over me while I am sitting down. I tend to size up people and try sensing their motives. I fit them into a profile. I keep a look out when I am in new buildings for possible exits and red zones that I can not see. Or stay alert for possible intersection danger areas that would make a likely kill sac if a fire fight was to brake out at a downtown restaurant, movie theater of shopping store. It will be hard to make true friends and I will hold grudges for a long time if ever betrayed. It isn't that I don't like people, but the fact that I don't know who I can trust. I battle an enemy outside the gate that wears the same clothes as the people I am supposed to be liberating. I have subversive views and peaceful progressive ideals that are under a microscope of conformity with checks and standards in place to weed out discipline cases like witch hunts. I can no longer even trust my own government.
I have learned to live in an eight foot by twenty four foot metal box with three other soldiers in a gravel lot with fifty other boxes and only two cold showers and six porta johns for bathrooms. When I leave my lot I have to wear a twenty pound vest of ceramic plates and a heavy kevlar helmet because mortar rounds, rockets and rocket propelled grenades are shot at us at all hours of the day. I have adapted to sand storms that cut flesh and heat waves that bleach sand white. I can now function for days with out food and sleep. I can sit motionless and quiet in a bush while bugs, spiders and scorpions crawl up and down inside my pant legs. I have learned to accept the fact that I might not see tomorrow and handle seeing good friends loss limbs and lives. I put on the same clothes every day that I have for the last nine months and have no concrete idea how much longer I will be forced to live in this barbed wired disgusting manner.
I miss lazy sundays where the biggest worry was getting to work on time. I miss snow flakes floating past the window while I was warm inside by the fire. I miss the sounds of household chores in the background while I watched pointless television. I miss midnight snacks. I miss seeing movies with girls. I miss having a few beers with friends while watching the ball game. I miss backyard barbeques. I miss the anticipation in the air as Christmas nears. I miss the trees changing into Autumn colors. I miss wearing clothes of my choosing. I miss long road trips. I miss my dog. I miss summer dips in the pool. I miss staying awake all night just to watch the sun go down. I miss live music. I miss freedom. I miss my mother. I miss the smile on my daughter's face.
I guess sometimes I just feel like a drop of water in a tidal wave that is crushing everyone I love. I can't stop it. I can only take part and watch innocent people drown. The worst thing is I signed up for the job and I'm getting something out of it in the end. But as I look behind me I can see the many miles of death and destruction. I will ride my wave into shore and the man in the red white and blue top hat will hand me my check and thank me for a wonderful job. I might as well choke on the check and join the people I hurt so they can have their revenge.
rEPp
Posted by Hannah at November 15, 2005 09:40 AM