Not Much to Say

My life has come to a grinding halt. At least, that's how I feel right now. I can almost taste being home yet its impossibly far away. Adapting to the new job has had its trials, but I am just starting to get the hang of what I think they want me to do. If only they knew what they wanted to do, I'd be all set.

I have gained a different perspective on how the training of the Iraqi Army is going. Now that I have a birds eye view instead of a ground level view, it does appear that we are making some really good progress. The section I am in is responsible for generating the new Iraqi Army Brigades, training their Soldiers and Officers, and then making sure they have all the equipment they need to get into the fight. Once they are recruited, trained, and equipped, we turn them over to group of Military Training Teams (MiTTs) who supervise their entry into "the fight". I wont say everything is going smoothly, but I do think as far as generating an Army goes, there has been some good progress made in the past year. Michael Yon has a great article about all of this and his interview with LTG Dubik, who is the commander of the unit I fall under.

I've been able to travel to the one of the training complexes in Besmaya and see an Iraqi Brigade graduate, and it was a pretty interesting experience. I posted some pictures about it last week. Other than that, things are going fairly well. There is a pretty good group of Captains in the area I work in, a few of which have also spent the last year training Iraqi's, so we have a pretty unique perspective on alot of the operations underway. We're also really sarcastic and short-timers, so it's not that bad of a time. Except when we get yelled at. Which is alot.

unwanted feelings

I turned the radio up so that I couldn't possibly hear anything else and notched the speedometer to just a tick under 100 mph. I was on my way to work at around 9pm and upset about something; nothing calms me down quite like deafeningly loud music and driving fast.

It was about 9 months or so after I originally got out of the Army, and I still had these uneasy feelings of guilt that came crashing down over me. They were usually triggered by a news report or hearing from one of my buddies still deployed. It would start as a little pang of guilt and quickly work itself into a full storm of anger on top of guilt. I wasn't even sure what I felt so bad about, which is what brought the anger on. I served a year in Afghanistan, I did my time honorably. Why should I feel bad about not having to go through all that again?

My initial decision to leave the military was a tough one, but I never had any real doubt about what I wanted. The biggest, and most obvious reason for me to get out was to start a family, which would be pretty tough to do if I was deploying every other year. There were other reasons though, and plenty of them. Still, a ridiculous deployment schedule was far and away reason numero uno.

The hardest part, though, was leaving the people. There is nothing in the world like the bond that gets formed between people in the military. The collective act of embracing the suck together forms bonds that are nearly impossible in any other organization. Try spending 10 rainy days in the box (also know as the training area) with 20 guys in the swamp-like conditions at Ft Polk and you'll know what I mean.

Of course, breaking that bond can have some pretty tough consequences. Sure, Soldiers PCS (permanent change of station) and change units all the time, but your not really breaking the bond because you go on to form new ones. So when I left the military, and all of my military friends deployed again to either Iraq or Afghanistan, I felt like the biggest dirt ball on earth. How could I be happy with my new car and house and wife when my friends were 6000 miles away embracing the suck together, again?

So I stopped watching the news. Didn't even pick up a newspaper. Listened to alot of sports radio. I still kept in contact with my friends who were deployed, but kept it to once a month or so. Then my best friend, Mark, got recalled off the IRR and I almost lost it. At that point I had a pretty firm grip on my choice and was even starting to feel truly happy about it, but the news that he would have to go back into Active Duty after over a year of being out was tough to swallow. So the cycle started up for me again. The random feelings of guilt and anger that would cycle on and off, pissing me off even more when I couldn't just be happy for what I had.

Eventually, though, that subsided as well. It happened more toward the end of Mark's deployment, when all my other friends were home and had subsequently ETSd (Expiration of Term of Service) themselves. One day, though, I had this sudden realization that I not only accepted my decision to get out, I was happy about it. I mean, my job was going great, Rachael and I were as happy as a couple could be and were thinking about starting a family. I had a lot of hope that when Mark got home for good, I could finally be rid of the nagging guilt I seemed to carry around with me all the time.

I never got the chance to see if that was the case, though. Soon after I accepted happiness I got a letter in the mail. I guess I wouldn't have a choice about feeling guilty for anything. Looking back, I laugh at what I felt and even how I phrase it as "accepting happiness". I mean, seriously, did it really have to be that difficult?

slip and slide

I poked my head out of my room and blinked my eyes a few times, not believing what I saw. My feet were freezing but I had to step out and touch it anyway, just to make sure - it was snow. Snow, in central Iraq!

The roads were slippery from the snow-turned-rain, and the Humvee slid, just a little, threatening to fishtail if it didn't find traction soon. Luckily for us, it did, and not a minute too soon, as we came up on a narrow bridge with only metal spanners to cross it. The orange dump truck stopped for no reason on the bridge made us nervous, but it turned out to be nothing. I don't know if it was the snow, but there seemed to be more stalled vehicles than normal - every half mile there seemed to be a guy pulled off to the side of the road, peering under his hood or just standing there. Don't stare at us too long, mister, or my friend with the large gun up there on our roof might get nervous. Trust me, you don't want that. Aside from one guy who ran when he saw us, our convoy this time was uneventful. Even the guy who ran stopped and put his hands up when we fired a warning at him.

Life in the IZ is quiet. Most of my IRR friends are on leave, but a few are still around, and I love catching up with them. I finally got my last project approved for funding, to the tune of $10 million. It's so easy to spend money over here . . . I really hope when I go back to my regular job I can get a realistic expectation of spending back. I guess it doesn't matter, because in a few years, I'm sure this will just seem like a bad dream anyway.