Saying Goodbye to Friends.

Saying Goodbye to Friends...

(Found a better song)
iTunes selection: "Brothers in Arms" -Dire Straits

I guess i've done this quite a bit since being over here. I get to know someone, or some people and they leave. The last couple left tonight. They were friends. I'm not sure if they humored me, if they enjoyed my company, or they just thought I was sometimes funny.

But I do know I'm going to miss them. I'm going to miss having lunch with them, I'm going to miss seeing them at functions and chatting with them and lord knows I'm going to miss praying with them.

I guess its no big thing to miss people, it happens when a space is left empty and there is nothing there to fill the void. I really just started to get to know these two people about 6 months ago. They were the air force combat stress team. A military term for the on site mental health team that looks after a deployed unit. They listened to peoples worries, they documented people's issues, and they attempted to help the chain of command 'deal' with their soldiers.

I guess they helped me in a professional manner, I know one time I went in and had to vent to them about a dumb issue. I think they found it more entertaining than anything else. I can only assume i wasn't the run of the mill person who had been 'recommended' by their chain of command to go in and have a session with them. I took a couple of minutes, complained and then asked them how their day was?

The best part was they had a good sense of humor. I could make bad jokes, compare the incomparable over breakfast and either one of them couldn't be rattled.

But once again I was at the LZ waiting for a Blackhawk to swoop in and take away someone I enjoyed being around. The last time this happened I had to put a friend of mine I worked with, Redcloud, on one of these black helicopters.

Redcloud had made the unforgivable sin of having his pistol go off in the office, discharging a round through the office wall into a concert barrier outside the building. The instant judgment was for him to be removed and sent to Baghdad to await termination.

I guess it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't had to be the one putting him on the aircraft. I was the 'acting' second in command and the 'acting' first in command jumped a convoy the day before with the instructions that Redcloud be put on the first thing smoking. I guess I could have disobeyed, but when i went to casually check on flights the administrative office had raised him to the top of their list. They had been given orders as well, but from their unit commander, this guy needed to be on the first thing, today.

So I rushed to Redcloud's room and told him he had to pack for an afternoon flight, and that the army wanted him out. He was angry, and of course disappointed. And I couldn't blame him, hell I wanted him to stay.

Fate leads to the same end every time and I found myself on the landing zone waving at him as he walked up to the aircraft. Just before he boarded the helicopter he stopped, turned in my direction and performed a crisp marine salute, a good bye.

I think I returned it, at least I hopped I did. And then he climbed inside, and the black helicopter flew away with another friend. I didn't care when they medi-vac'd the crack head out of here. We had a guy over dose on sleeping pills and start running around camp in his flip flops, shorts and t-shirt uncontrollably. He ducked in and out of the dining facility, ran around the office with a rifle, and started tell us his wife was in the next room and needed to speak to him. Eventually we got him to the first aid station and the army medics said they couldn't do anything for him and he needed to be sent to a hospital for help. I helped carry his litter he was strapped down to up to the helicopter and loaded him on one hand at a time. I didn't smile, i didn't get angry, i just put the guy on and told him good luck.

Actually to be specific our medic, Doc, did the right thing and followed through with his duties and made the guy pee for him and then tested it. Doc left too, his company ousted by our corporate office decided they could make more money if they hunted down, vetted, and employed their own medics. Doc was personala non grata by corporate within a week after the two company's split.

So here I was again, at Fiddler's Green waiting to say good bye to yet another couple of folks that I considered friends. The chaplain, also a friend, was there with his folding chair and a hand full of his trade mark cigars. Weren't cigars for celebrating child births and stuff like that? Not saying goodbye? I smoked one and found another friend to chat with for a minute.

Out of the dark two black helicopters again arrived, everybody picked up their bags, and shuffled out to the waiting aircraft. Like church goers quietly finding a seat they ambled out to the flight line. I gave them both a hug and told them god bless and backed away from the rotor wash coming from the gap in the cement walls. I took one last drag on my cigar and held it up to the moon light. I nodded toward the S1 next to me and said, "fitting, I finished my cigar as they boarded the chopper."

Spreading Peace in the Middle East...

iTunes Selection: "Wonderwall" -Oasis.

Before my father died he started his 12 steps over again from AA. He wanted to make amends for being an alcoholic while we were growing up. I thought I had heard him tell me this before so I listened politely as I could and let him go on. He was letting go, letting go of his guilt as if confessing to me.

A couple of years later I was standing in a Dining Facility in Baghdad about to ask the Indian server for an ice cream cone from a 31 flavors freezer and it hit me:

I needed to make amends and move on.

“Praleans Cream sir?”

I hated Praleans and Cream ice cream. It used to be my ex-wives favorite. I remember one night I drove around town going to 31 flavors looking for Praleans and Cream for her. I ended up buying the generic brand at the grocery store just so I could go home and call it a night. That was the reason for that fight.

‘lazy sob, couldn’t even get me the right ice cream, your just like your father!’

I don’t really remember the rest of the argument, but I think i spent the night in the spare bedroom. God I’m glad that house had a spare bedroom.

So there I was, trying to decide between Praleans and Cream and something else and I realized how angry I still was about some stupid ice cream flavor.

Just a little while earlier I had spent some time looking back at my emails between the two of us after we had split up. It was the normal stuff divorcing people say to each other I guess. Except I started to notice a trend about my emails. I had been angry, openly, didn’t matter what she wrote to me I was angry. She tried to say something nice and I had jumped all over her about something worthless.

‘Vanilla, strawberry, or chocolate sir?’

I needed to do something different or it was going to eat me up like it had my father. The last time I saw him he was on a bed in the hospital wasting away. Barely the person I knew growing up he was hooked up to about every kinda machine and device to keep him alive. He came in and out of clarity. At one point he looked at me and for a second realized who i was, i think. I told him how my wife had made it home safe from Iraq, and then he was gone again. God, what had happened to the man I knew.

‘sir? Flavor?’

I was at work when my brother called to tell me that dad had passed. The entire family was there and they had watched him as he had slowly relaxed, looked up at the family and slipped away. My brother was broken up as he called me and told me about it. I tried to say something meaningful, but nothing would help. At which point I hung up with him and focused on getting home . I then picked up my cell phone and called my wife. ‘my dad just died.’
‘thats sad,’ and in the same breath, ‘you can pick up the divorce papers at the lawyers office if you want?’ I was wordless, what do I say to that? ‘ah, yeah, i have to deal with this first.’ and I hung up.

‘sir? Flavor, sir?’

I was still angry with her for dropping that bomb on me. I was angry for not listening to my father closer when he had called in the middle of the night and rambled on about something and the answering machine listened as i feel back asleep. I was angry for not having someone to cry with when he died.

Not long after he died I had a dream about my father. I walked up to his bed in the hospital, my grandmother was sitting there beside him, and he magically got up out of bed like the resurrection of christ. As strong and healthy as when I was just a little kid so small in his arms he spoke to me, ‘I’m at peace now.’

I wrote my ex wife and said i was sorry, and i wanted to make peace with her. I needed to make amends.

I needed to let go of the anger and move on. It was my very own 12th step before I took the biggest step of all and married the most wonderful woman in the world, my lil red head...

‘I’ll have the vanilla.’

Jogging at night in Iraq...

Finally a day off, finally some time to do something different.

iTunes Selection: "Quien Eres Tu(feat. Trey Songz)" -Mariajose

It had finally cooled down, the dust was still kicking from the day’s dust storm but the heat had finally died down and the night was calm. I jogged out the south gate and turn left. At first I started looking for cars that maybe I could thumb a ride with. All I saw was a tractor trailer headed out. I stayed off the main road and on the dirt side of the road.

I was using my iPod to light the road, and to light myself for the occasional pick up truck driving by at warp speed. I was listening to “Quien Eres Tu,” a spanish song I’d downloaded from itunes. The rhythmic beat kept my legs going. Oddly enough the song seemed to fit the scenery. I stepped it up as I crossed an intersection and followed the side road through a refueling site. The road was now pavement and my feet made more noise than or the dirt. The music was putting me in a good mood, as i passed I waved at the hindi re-fuelers. A couple glanced at me sideways, the others just seemed to be waiting to close up and go home for the night.

I crossed the main road and picked up my pace as I went through the deserted traffic circle. The beat kept playing in my head phones and my feet kept moving. I waved at a couple of Iraqi guards with my water bottle. They waved back, a little unsure who had just jogged past them. I turned right, down the last leg of my trip.

This was a dark narrow road with 20 foot walls on either side. There was no lights on this road, but the full moon helped illuminate the way. As my eyes adjusted to the light I could start making out the creatures of the night, bats. Swooping down they were snacking on the bugs in the air. The muted full moon broke through the dust in the air but the road seemed darker and darker. I took one final gulp of warm water out of my water bottle and washed my mouth out of dirt that I had started to taste.

This jog reminded me of running with my dad as a kid. I picked up spitting from him as I ran. I cleared my throat one more time and tossed the bottle as hard as i could into the trees along the side of the road and stretched out my stride. I was going to make the best of this last leg and I wanted to lighten my load. I turned up the music on my ipod and lengthened my stride. I was headed in, I didn’t like being on this road by myself. It was too dark.

As i pulled up to the gate guards they had a look of surprise, ‘where’d you come from?’ Their first question was if I was an interpreter? No, I worked in an office.

I jogged here from the gym on Stryker. Only about 2 miles, but it was dark. Jogging the final turn around the compound I walked into the office for a big bottle of cold water.