War in Iraq, a Soldier's View

I didn’t write much about getting home because as soon as we were close I lost interest in the journal, I was too busy thinking about coming home so I’ll try to fill in what happened over that month.

Fort Carson went pretty smoothly, unlike Iraq and Kuwait it only took about a week to out-process. I guess since we were home and there weren’t many people coming back it was easy to get us through, unlike Kuwait where everybody was trying to get flown back and it was a logistical nightmare.

We got some more shots and checkups at Carson they told us that if we wanted to have a full physical we’d have to wait a week for the blood work to be completed before we could go home. That would mean staying a week longer that we would have to if we didn’t get the physical, the catch is that if anything crops up later in life that was cause by the deployment and we don’t claim it now we may be rejected to get free treatment to solve the problems. This posed a dilemma, I felt great and was sure that a physical would reveal nothing but I didn’t want to be screwed later in life, but I also couldn’t wait sitting on my ass for a week for some blood work to come through when I could be at home. I compromised by skipping a full physical and just getting my back looked at since it had bothered me in the past. While I was in there they gave me a few of the normal tests and said I was in great shape. Turn in a QIF was a little bit of a pain, it was hard finding all the junk that had been given to us 10 months before. Plus I was told that we had to turn in more BDU’s that I thought and was short a jacket (I had one but I wanted a full set as a souvenir). I just said screw it and paid the army $45 for a missing jacket.

We were used to rushing to get through things now since we had been so excited to go home for the last 3 months that what was usually scheduled for a day we usually got done in half a day. The rest of the time we spent hanging out around the base and sometimes going off post to go out for dinner. Whenever people learned that we had just gotten back they would ask us tons of questions about what it was like. Sgt. Garcia liked to brag that we were over there so we would get special treatment; I usually just deflected all questions and didn’t mention it unless asked specifically about it.

Half us finally got a flight home after we got all out checkpoints made and signed, the Colonel gave us a little service at the chapel and a soldier journalist interviewed us for the 96th RSC newsletter. Then we flew home.

I was expecting it to be a big production when we got home but we didn’t want to be treated strangely so we flew home in civilian clothes rather than BDU’s (according to new Army rules you shouldn’t wear uniforms on flights now because they make you a terrorist target). The news was there but I didn’t want them getting in the way of my family and me so we hugged and kissed and grabbed our luggage and hurried away before any reporters could snag us. I did notice a few soldiers, Griffin, Keller and the like angling towards the reporters just so they could get interviewed. Later that night on the news they talked like your typical brainwashed ubër-patriotic types about how great the army was and how heroic we were in a country full of animals. Next time me Layton, Hansen, and Patterson got together at drill we talked about how what they said in no way represented what it was like on our deployment and how we should have stuck around for interviews just to tell it like it really was.

When I got home the local boy scouts put up rows of flags going up our street and tied yellow ribbons on everything. I showed my family all my souvenirs and junk I had brought home. Then all my friends from the local Xterra group showed up and spent an hour welcoming me home and asking me questions. Out of all my friends I had been in contact with them the most since as long as I had access to internet I could post messages on the UXOC message board.

I called the rest of my friends the next day and told them I was home and they told me than in the next few weeks they would throw a big welcome home party for me. However later the party never materialized and the idea of it kind of faded into the background.

I wasn’t able to get in touch with one of my friends, he and his wife said they were going to be moving out of state and I figured they already had. A few months later out of the blue he called me and it turns out they’ve been in the state the whole time they just didn’t know I was back. Their plans had fallen through and it looked like they would be staying a little longer.

Me, Layton, and Hansen made good on our promise to make a trip to Vegas, about a week after I was home we drove down in the Xterra and spent 4 days living it up. We had plenty of money saved so we got to play the part of high rollers getting clothes at Armani and hitting the night clubs. I ended up coming out ahead for the weekend. Hansen was hitting on a girl late one night after Layton had gone up to the room; I wanted to head back but Hansen had the key and I didn’t want to bother him while he was with this girl. So I played the slots for a few minutes putting in $10 and winning the second prize Jackpot, 4000 credits (about $500), too bad I didn’t win the free car though. When I finally got back to Hansen he had had some interesting events himself, after spending 45 minutes talking to this girl it turned out she was a prostitute and asked if he wanted to pay $300 to sleep with her. He said hell no and got out of there and we went up to the room laughing about the night.

The next few months went pretty easily, I was chilling out living off my savings. I sold my Pathfinder and got that off my chest. I also finished up my 6 years of reserve time and switched over to IRR (Inactive Ready Reserve), it was pretty easy turning in all my equipment, and it felt good knowing that I wouldn’t ever need it again. Technically I can still be called up without a draft till November 2005 but the Iraq duty was my last, I learned that I’m too outspoken and too politically minded for the Army. A good soldier is one who is politically neutral and accepts whatever the commanding officers and Commander in Chief designates. I hate Bush and I’m sick of the bureaucracy of the Army so I don’t think I’ll re-enlist in 2005 and if they try to call me back up I’m pretty much in the conscientious objector category now. I’d like to make a difference on the civilian side from now on. I’m proud that I was able to get rid of Saddam so that Iraqis could choose their own destiny but on the other hand I don’t like being a pawn in the hands of somebody like George W. Bush.

So now I’m up to the present, I’m looking for a networking related job, trying to move into a good house and live the normal life like everybody else. If you saw me in the streets walking amoungst normal Americans you wouldn’t be able to tell what I had seen or where I had been.

But it’s funny that I can see others like me in the crowds now, once at a club I bumped into some old friends of mine from high school. They hadn’t seen me in years and had no idea where I’ve been but one of the guys they were hanging out with looked a bit different and he noticed something in me too. As soon as we got a chance we asked where in Iraq each other had been, turns out he had been up at Baghdad International and had taken some shrapnel in a bombing that got him an early medical disability discharge. I notice it in Veterans from other wars too, there’s something in the eyes and face that tells you that somebody has seen the other side of peace, the side that’s not peaches and cream that we all take for granted. Everybody who gets sent to war gets scarred, not physically but mentally. We realize that war isn’t a game or some adventure that CNN or FOX shows us highlights of.

War is a tragedy no matter what the outcome is; it’s the darker side of life that can’t even be imagined by those that don’t personally experience it; it’s civilization at its worst yet it will always be around as long as man exists.