Homecoming
Desert Flier on the best thing about Iraq.
“So, how was Iraq?” Can I answer this one in two sentences or less?
“Well, should we be there?” Dunno, ask Rumsfeld.
“When are you due to go back?” I just left, people. Do I really have to ponder when I have to go back? Dunno, ask Cheney.
Every time, without fail, I know I’m giving this pained look as I attempt to answer yet another thoroughly complex question that I know will take hours to actually answer. How do I streamline the responses into a politician’s soundbite? Dunno. . .
So I’ve resorted to this: “I can tell you the best thing about Iraq.” This is getting them every time. I’m not trying to bait anyone. Just looking for a way to avoid the questions I’m not ready to answer.
Teflon Don drinks beer, quits smoking, gets nostalgic for his old job.
I’ve almost stopped reacting to debris/cracks/etc in the road. I still miss Iraq, though, and if it weren’t for my knowledge of how life goes on without you during deployment, I’d volunteer to go again. Once in a while, I’ll find myself back there while I teeter on the brink of sleep- I’m getting ready for a mission, or taking fire from that two-story building that the command wire runs to and wishing I could see which window its coming from. Those moments don’t happen all that often, though, and I’m starting to immerse myself in normal life again.
Badger Six on not being a six anymore and going back, on his six things.
I wake up in the pitch black dark of the tent in
Kuwait – my first thought? What happened overnight? And then I remember – I am not in command any more. I do not have Soldiers I am legally obligated to worry about, only my friends and former brothers-in-arms who are already trying to work their way home. At least by the following Wednesday, they should all be out of Iraq and my worries would be like that of a Jewish mother.
I remember exiting pitch-dark Baghdad on a C-130 climbing fast, leaving behind armored vehicles, dirt and MREs for lit-up Kuwait and a chauffered Escalade ride from the air base to the Sheraton with its clean sheets and lavish breakfast buffet. I remember being happy there were Marines just out of Iraq in the airport at Dubai I could drink with on the layover. I remember how small my kids seemed when I first saw them again, having expected that I never would again. I remember how long it took to get back to normal, and finally recognizing that in times like these, normal’s still a long way out.
Posted by Jules Crittenden at 1:08 am on Thursday, October 18, 2007
One Response to “Homecoming”
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October 18th, 2007 at 2:47 pm
Getting back to “normal” after being in a war zone is probably the most surreal experience of any change in circumstances, more even than going into a war zone.