You know how sometimes you find yourself staring at something – those background props to life like a rock on the ground or a shadow that is cast by the same tree every single day in your front yard – and your eyes go out of focus as you go deeper and deeper into some personal realm of thought? And you try to concentrate on what the talking heads around you are saying, try to empathize with the importance of their request, but it’s a struggle? Well, I didn’t do that at all today.
I have no idea why I feel so great, mentally, physically, and spiritually, because lately I’ve been a little more neutral with my disposition than I like to be, but I thought I’d capture it on paper while I felt so giddy - high on life, focused, and utterly optimistic about the path that lies ahead.
It was an average day. This morning at 0900 a couple of us went out to the range and did some shooting. We each had our M-16 rifles. We also had a Squad Automatic Weapon, which is a machine gun that goes through 30 round magazines fast like an over-zealous beaver gnawing on a small twig. The sun was already beating down on us, but it wasn’t too hot yet. There are dirt berms running down the sides of the range to keep bullets from straying over to the next lane. Next to us some Marines were shooting an MK-19. Other than that, there were only three of us. Three soldiers, four weapons, and a lot of ammo in this obscure desert shooting range in the middle of the Iraqi desert. On this big planet, on this huge continent, relatively close to the Persian Gulf, that harbor of history, on a FOB in Iraq, lying down in the dust, squinting, and firing at paper targets. It was very therapeutic to practice reflexive fire, precision shooting at paper targets, and of course holding the machine gun at our hips and just spraying bullets down range like Al Pacino in Scarface.
I was back by 1015, sitting in a “Battalion focus” meeting. We have these quite often, and it is an opportunity for all the Battalion leadership to get together and discuss any issues we need to. I usually have a lot of technical stuff to share, along with some requests from the Commanders regarding the constant shifting of communications equipment.
Today, I simply said, “Sir, I have nothing for the group today. If any of you need support or aren’t getting the commo support you need, please come to me directly and I’ll make sure it gets taken care of.” The work load has not lessened, but I’m doing direct coordination with people on various issues, and there was nothing to really share with the group. Also, my personal philosophy about meetings is to brief by exception. That means I keep it short, and don’t think of stuff to say just for the sake of saying something.
It was in the upper nineties all afternoon, but it felt good. As the sun went down around 1930, there was a mild breeze, but it was enough. Just feeling the breeze on your skin lent the air a mirage of coolness.
Things are always burning out here. Most days I can turn around 360 degrees and somewhere on my horizon will be a large plume of black smoke. Usually it smells like burnt paper and trash, which is not a very pleasing olfactory sensation. But tonight at sunset someone nearby was burning wood. Perhaps it was a broken pallet that needed to be scrapped. I don’t know, but it smelled wonderful. It wasn’t exactly the smell of a campfire, casting me instantly into nostalgic bliss, but it was still a very good smell.
I found myself smiling at nothing at all and talking with my roommate about how cool it’s going to be when our replacements show up. It would be inhuman if we didn’t feel some growing excitement at the prospect of having achieved our goal, executed a successful mission, and handing the battle off to the next unit in the rotation.
Like I said, our work hasn’t changed. The mission is still the priority. But people talk about going home more often. Instead of saying things like, “Before you know it, Christmas will come and go, and we’ll be in 2006,” we’re saying things like “Holy crap, we’re actually going to leave this place someday.” It’s a pleasing topic that tickles the spine of expectation, especially when there’s a cool breeze drifting across the landscape and it has recently picked up the sweet scent of burning timber.
"A thing long expected takes the form of the unexpected when at last it comes." Mark Twain
tags: day persian average m16 burning iraq timber gulf machine gun
links: digg this del.icio.us technorati reddit
![[Project Gutenberg]](http://www.gutenberg.org/ftp/images/PG_Button_104x40DEF64.gif)
Enjoyed your post, sorry you're over there. Having never been to the middle
east, I can't even begin to imagine how hot it gets, but your comment "Just
feeling the breeze on your skin lent the air a mirage of coolness." says it
all. Also, the smell of burning wood, I always relate that to November,
and for you to get a whiff of that, and describe it, again, was spot on.
Wish all the best to you and your compatriots, may you all get home safe.
Thanks.
The tedium of your usual grind somehow seems elevated and transformed by
your new found anticipation. Strange how even your reader's perceptions of
the heated, dusty and smoky desert are changed in very positive ways! You
have finally hit the "J curve" of your homeward expectations and your
happiness is quite wonderful to behold. God bless you and those with whom
you serve over these remaining weeks.