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Or so I thought. |
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How the United States war on terror affected our nation as a whole and myself personally. |
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MY STORY…. FROM RECRUIT TO REBEL |
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Left, Left, Left, Right, your Left!” The cadence sounded so prestigious as we marched to the auditorium for graduation. After eight long months of training, hundreds of miles from home, I was finally finished.. “Left, Left, Left, Right…Halt! File from the left, column left…March!“ We then filed into the auditorium. Although I was born on 9/11, the war on terrorism in Iraq was the last thing on my mind. Me . I’m not here to gain respect, or instill any beliefs in you about my person. I’m here to enlighten you, the reader about how traumatic experiences in life take time to cope with, and how hiding them inside yourself can cause you to self destruct. Everyday men and women join the armed services with the knowledge of the war on terror. Many for glory, many for money, others join due to family legacy. Me personally I didn’t join for respect, or to be a peg higher on the wall. I joined to try and undo all the bad I’ve done, and climb out of a huge financial hole. I received a direct deposit in my back account for $50,000 six months after completing my basic and advanced training for the army. I was stationed at Ft. Benning, GA. Any where within twenty miles of post I got discounts on everything, kind words of thanks from civilians. Finally, I felt like I was doing good with my life. I had $50,000 in the bank and a steady paycheck. All was right in the world. For 2 months all was going great, then at final call formation, for the rear-detachment, the list of soldiers deploying to join the forward detachment was released. “CARNES!” You could have slapped me in the mouth and it wouldn’t have phased me. My heart was pounding. I knew I wasn’t dying but still it seemed as though my life past, present, and future was running through my head at ninety miles an hour. I was going over in my head the time left in our deployment…7 months…no 8...no shit…11months! Then my mind jumped to a memorial service I had participated in performing, for a staff sergeant from another company in my battalion. At the time I thought this is an American Hero, a lucky man. Now all that I could imagine was my pine box and my folded flag. I started thinking about what I would do with my car, who would pay my bills? Would my friends still be here when I got back? Will I have time to call home if I’m even able? Then I realized I’m not scared for my personal well being or dying. My thinking was I would die when it was my time and that something you cant change. But to be on the other side of the globe away from home is something that I couldn’t imagine dealing with. I was just scared to travel outside of my comfort zone and leave everything behind. After two weeks of train-up, and a sixteen-hour flight, I was in Baghdad, Forward Operating Base (F.O.B.) Rustamiyah. I was assigned to Echo Company, 2nd Battalion 69th Armor Regiment 3rd Brigade of the 3rd Infantry Division. I was given three days to get settled in. Then I would go on my first patrol. I was a 21 Bravo Combat Engineer. Our purpose in Iraq was to prevent, find, and/or disarm Improvised Explosive Devices (I.E.D). Depending on the severity and the amount of explosive materials we would either disarm them on our own or call the Explosive Ordinance Division (E.O.D) Unit. When I wasn’t’ going on mounted patrols searching for IED’s, I would be participating in dismounted patrols searching for hostiles to detain. My first patrol did not pertain to IED’s, it was to seek out and detain a known informant. This was someone who had access to the FOB as an interpreter or a contracted worker. In order to gain access to the FOB being a local national of Iraq, you were required to pass an Army mandated background check. Although there were people whose sole purpose in the Army was to ensure that these locals were trustworthy, I was still leery and at times paranoid of them. A paranoia that though is of life in general, I have kept still to this day. Personally, I could relate on some level with the attitudes that the locals must have towards others and me from my country. I could imagine how I would feel if our country was invaded and I was working for some foreign army that was controlling my home. It was hard for me to look them in the eye without seeing an expression that displayed pure unwavering hatred for who I was, where I was from, what I believed in, and my job here in their country. The most prolific patrol I ever went on was about a month into my deployment…”BREACH ON THREE!!! ONE!!!…TWO!!!…THREE!!!…….BANG!!!” I was on rear security, so I was last in through the door. Normally, that was a good thing. The other members of my squad cleared the house room-to-room and upstairs. I was left behind to keep an eye on the door and guard the Iraqi who was in the main room. The man looked to be my age and scared shitless. He was on his knees facing me, he looked as if he was sizing me up. He muttered something and shifted a bit. “DON’T MOVE!!!” I screamed at him, not sure if he understood. I leaned out the door to yell for an interpreter. When I turned back around I saw a glimpse of the man on his feet. Then there it was…what appeared to be a chrome handgun. “BOOM!!!” I dropped to the ground. A few moments later I stood back up. I was covered in blood. I was trembling. Then I figured it out. The escort with the interpreter had seen what the detainee was doing, opened fire, and more than likely, saved my life. My commander later informed me that the house was a virtual IED factory. That he had no idea we’d encounter any resistance. He asked if I was okay, what I was thinking, and feeling. We talked a bit and he scheduled me an appointment with combat stress, a type of counseling for deployed soldiers. Just as a precaution was his reasoning. I went to counseling throughout the rest of the deployment. Went on patrols day and night, fine I thought, and so did my fellow soldiers. There were other patrols that I went on that turned violent, some more dangerous, more bloody. None though directly involved me in the direct line of danger. I could have been killed at any point in the deployment, but never was I that close to the ones that wished me dead. That was the only time the whole time I was at war I looked the bad guy in the eye and new that killing me was what he wanted, no different than taking his next breath. I lived the next year and a half of my life and my last six months of my army contract with no regard to my safety or those around me. My new motto in regards to life was to live fast and die slow. I used this motto in reference to the thought that crosses your mind before you do something illegal or dangerous. I would just think to myself why worry now, why care now, I can do all that later, I just want to live now in this moment. It took me almost two years to realize the effect that the war had on me. CLICK HERE TO SEE HOW THE WAR AFEECTED NOT ONLY ME BUT OUR COUNTRY |
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IMAGE SOURCES · mitchellarchives.com · supportingourtroops2008 · Rankopedia.com · http://informedvoters.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/iraq-war.jpg · http://gdb.rferl.org/26BB097B-FE68-4A82-9960-2D35066E10EF_mw800_mh600.jpg · |
