Over the past ten years our country has been at War. A resounding phrase that has been used by media outlets and papers alike. A phrase we far to often breeze right over like common knowledge. Think of yourself as a nine year old child in America, what else do you know? But to the one half of one percent of Americans that serve in its Armed forces this phrase brings lifetimes of memories. It has been said that the gap between Military soldiers and the civilian workers has been growing increasingly larger and tense. Talk to a soldier and quite often he will say, "They [civilians] just don't get it" or "They don't know what it feels like." So I would like to share a couple of my stories to broaden the perspective of what a Military soldier goes through, rather than just tell my civilian counterparts, "You just wouldn't understand."
When we landed at HEM in June of 2010, we ran off the back of the chinook (a large helicopter) and were greeted by some staff personal telling us to keep going straight. It was pitch dark, maybe midnight by this point, and on forward operating bases lights were not permitted at night. After moving for what seemed to me like a mile we came to an open dessert the size of maybe ten football fields, surrounded by large 10 foot barriers. In the middle of this wasteland were 4 twenty man tents. We moved into the tents and prepared to lay down for the night. Woke up the next morning to see what I could not the night before, we certainly were in the middle of a giant dessert surrounded by walls. For the first two months the men of 2-502 would not see a shower, feel the flow of running water, go to the bathroom in porta johns that were emptied twice a week (mind you its 115 during the day in Kandahar) not a great smell. 40 men would sleep in a tent intended for 20 max. Reflect on what you would do if you didnt have a shower for say 2 weeks, let alone two months. And here is the kicker, we fucking loved it. Now did we bitch, sure. Would we have taken showers, haha hell yes. But we loved what we were doing and even without the creature comforts loved fighting and taking it to the enemy.
Unfortunately the next post is not as uplifting, it contains explicit details and if you prefer not to read it please just skip to the conclusion. It was a hot summer day in Kandahar, like any other. Myself and SGT G were busy doing our usual afternoon workout in our makeshift Battalion gym. With headphones in, Jay Z "On to the next" blaring, we heard a boom, and as always gave each other that quizzical look and almost instantly asked each other the same question, "Outgoing?" See outgoing mortar rounds quite often sound like incoming mortar rounds, unless of course you are extremely close to the explosion. We continued our workout and ran down to the CP to do some pullups. We were located next to the mortar pit when mid pull up we heard another huge boom, this time there was no quizzical look, no question of direction, we were getting mortared and close, the rounds landing maybe 300 meters to our north vicinity the battalion CP. We sprinted back to our tents, I through on my body armor, grabbed my helmet, radio and weapon and took off back to the CP. With my ear piece in I could hear the reports coming in. A young soldier, maybe the radio traffic operator for the battalion kept repeating the same phrase, "Multiple wounded, all medical personal report to the aid station for mass cal procedures." A mass cal, short for mass casualty, signifies an event in which multiple people have been injured or killed by one incident. As I sprinted into our CP, my CO pulled up in our ATV, he had been using it to transport the bodies to the aid station. At this point it was getting dark and there were to many injured to do medical treatments inside the aid station. I was ordered to grab as many industrial flashlights as I could and go to the aid station. When I got there it was insanity. 3 stretchers sat up on poles so they could be chest high to the battalion surgeon, 3 other bodies were laid next to each other on the outside of the aid station. Someone yelled to bring a light over to the bodies next to the aid station and as I shined it down what I saw has been seared into my brian. A man who was a US civilian electrician on the forward operating base, except he didn't look like the man I knew. The concussive blast had caused his body to swell up to three times its normal size and he lay lifeless. I stood there with the light shining down on him as a medical person took information and placed him in a black bag. My CO came over at this point and in his Virginia draw said, "Snook, get the fuck out of here, you don't need to see this shit." I didn't say a word or question him, just handed him the flashlight and walked off. I found out later a mortar round had landed at the entrance to a bunker where several US contractors were having a smoke. I couldn't tell you how many contractors died that day, as crazy as that sounds, maybe its a memory I have suppressed. But as I laid down in my tent that night I thought to myself, "Is this what a 24 year old is suppose to see? Am I going to go crazy? We just got here and this has already happened, what will I be like in a year? What the fuck am I doing, im only 24."
While this is gruesome and difficult to write or talk about, it is important for the American civilian to hear. Over the next couple weeks I will share more of these stories, not all bad like the last one, just in an attempt to maybe help people understand why our young soldiers are the way they are. We love America and every person who lives within this great country. All we ask is for a little bit of time to sit and listen to what we have to say. Thank you all for the support and for reading a little bit of my internal thoughts.
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