I started writing a book a couple of years ago when I first got out of the Army, after serving 15 years, active duty. This is the story of my last combat deployment to Afghanistan in 2011-12. I will be posting a section of the writing every day, so please follow me, or follow the link to find the rest of the series. @deep1111

The War Within Me (Part 1)

I had just arrived on US soil. The plane ride was unbearably long; from Germany, to "Nowhere, Canada", to Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington. I tried to sleep most of the trip as the anticipation of seeing my wife and kids was eating me alive. When we landed, there was a huge procession of high-ranking officers and enlisted folks waiting at the end of the stairs to shake each of our hands and give the customary “Welcome Home”. All that was on my mind, “Fuck you, let me see my wife”! I kept picturing her as I carried my bags the 500 meters to the terminal.

This is how soldiers fly. We land at an air base and then disembark the plane by way of a mobile stare case. Then typically walk a short distance carrying everything in our possession; rifle over our shoulder while we hustle to the terminal where we hand over our rifle to the armorer. This deployment had changed me dramatically. I did not know at the time what changes had taken place until little things started popping up.

Our unit had paid a heavy price. All-in-all, of the 85 soldiers assigned, we had lost two fine young Americans on one of the worst days the unit had seen since World War II. We gave out 17 purple hearts for the wounded during our year long tour. One unfortunate soul had gotten this awarded twice! I remember him very clearly as he attempted to bunk above me one time, and I looked at him, and said “Hell no! Either you are going to move, or I am, because “twice-wounded” is bad luck”! We both laughed, and he moved, because this was serious as a heart attack to me, and he could see that. Good times!

I remember seeing her face for the first time in over 6 months. I had seen her for a short stint during my mid-tour leave, but leaving a wife and kids at home, when you know you are leaving to face sheer devastation and danger, is a hard “nut” to swallow. I really don’t know if it is a sense of honor, integrity, or both that keeps soldiers from going AWOL. I admire all this, not because I have endured it, but because this is truly the best humanity has to offer; someone willing to place their life in danger for their brothers on the battlefield. That is what keeps soldiers in the service; it is not the money for sure; it is not the notoriety, which is really non-existent anyways as I will cover later on this story. It is the bond that brothers have where one looks out for the other.

The military is full of leaders. I believe that only leaders want to serve; especially in a time of war. What else would possess an 18 year old kid to take up arms in support of a cause that was directed by politicians who really did not have a stake in their safety? I could see the anxiety in her eyes. I saw her from across the room. Just as I started walking her direction, one of the soldiers who had not deployed came up and asked, “Smoke, can I get your rifle”?

Speaking of that, the term “Smoke” is what we in the Field Artillery call a Platoon Sergeant. Why is that; you may ask? Well, there are a few different stories I have heard over the years. The one that makes the most sense to me is during the American Civil War, cannon fire was directed by the Sergeant of the Platoon. He would stand between the cannons and direct fire. The black powder used as a propellant gave off a huge plume of smoke. The Sergeant would hold his ground and continue directing fire through the smoky onslaught, and somewhere the term “Smoke” was forever burned as an “unofficial title” onto future Platoon Sergeants, the Field Artillery over.

Now this, to my knowledge, is the only instance in the Army where an unofficial title or rank is recognized as acceptable. Once a Smoke, always a Smoke; at least until you get promoted! This is all hearsay, but I liked this explanation as it gave history as to the origin of the term. So, I am sticking with it!

I thought the whole process of holding us cordoned off from our family was stupid, and it was keeping me from getting to my objective; to grab my wife in my arms. Still, I complied, because that is what soldiers do! We comply with things that normal people in society do not understand. We do so, due to the servitude that is ingrained into our minds from inception.

So, I hastily signed a few papers, and turned around to see her fidgeting in excitement. The room was a huge open bay where half of the room was cordoned off with orange safety cones and caution tape. The loud sound of conversation, and celebration was in the air. You could hear babies crying; grown men and women crying. You could hear happiness in the air. You could hear anticipation in the air.

From the soldiers perspective, it reminded me of graduating from college! I had done so, eight months prior. The way in which education is completed with the active duty enlisted soldier is probably hard to imagine for the general public. I completed my Bachelor’s degree in a warzone, in one of the most inhospitable areas in the world; where the daily threat of getting killed or wounded was absolutely real, and present. This was our reality! The way in which this reminded me of it was when I received word that my degree had been conferred, and brought a level of excitement, which was short-lived. It was not real yet.

We knew something good was coming, and these “bastards” were keeping us from making that dream a reality. I could see that she could not take the torture any longer. The closer I got, the tears started to well in her eyes. I cannot stand to see my wife cry. It is one of the most heart-wrenching experiences, mixed with a desire to protect her. We have an undying bond that many marriages lack. We have been through some pretty rough times. We have always managed to team up and pull each other through.

I could see the year of uncertainty and fear had been lifted. She had remained strong and I had tried my hardest to keep the realities from her. Now was a time of release! Welcome home! That is what we hear when we get back. Everyone in the Army is really appreciative and understanding of the sacrifice. This is due to them living the same life. Those that do not have a stake in the military do not really understand the sacrifice given each day. Not only during war, but during training, during humanitarian deployments, during disasters, during “dog and pony shows”!

Here is a term maybe you have heard, maybe you haven’t. Really, the process of decompressing my service has opened my eyes to just “how” institutionalized I had become in my 15 years. We use the term “dog and pony show” to denote higher-ups making a visit. I imagine it is the same in the civilian sector. That is where managers lose their shit to ensure that everything is “dress-right-dress”! This is getting ridiculous! “Dress-right-dress” is a term to denote an orderly fashion. Making sure everything looks pretty.

To simplify matters, I will only focus on defining terms or acronyms that detract from the story going forward. I am “fresh-out” of uniform and have yet to make my transition, so forgive my terminology in some instances. “As you were”!

Continue To Part 2...

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