KUWAIT 16DEC08
Blue Platoon gathered in the company area at 2300 on Friday evening, 12DEC08, surrounded by our families and friends. We had spent two weeks on pre-deployment leave with them, and then had a few half-days of work while we completed our final preparations—enjoying the other half of those days with our loved ones—but this precious time together was marked by a sense of urgency and tension. I may have finished my leave even more reluctant to leave my wife than if we had just flown out without those weeks. There isn’t much you can say when the two of you are looking down the tunnel at a year of absence. The time is so great that it is ridiculous to contemplate; a vague, abstract concept. Not real. Especially as we already expect this tour to be extended, and possibly by another six months. There is no light at the other end of that tunnel.
Hope and I spent the final day clearing out the apartment, moving what we had into storage or into her car for her use during the year at school, and finally settling in for a last evening together in a hotel by the base. We didn’t let go of each other for the better part of six hours. But as 2200 rolled closer we came to terms with the deployment. Putting my uniform on had a profound sense of finality that evening. For those of you who know Hope, you’d know that only a complete idiot would ever want to leave her for a year. We are so ridiculously happy together that we actually make people nauseous around us. We’re one of those couples that are bound to inspire nostalgia among the old and serious jealousy around the single. Still, as cliché as it sounds, some problems are bigger than our lives, and what we might want for ourselves is miniscule compared to what we as a people want for the world. So the boots were laced, the duffel bags were packed, and we drove to base.
The entire platoon, to their credit, was present for deployment. No attempts at desertion, no straggling, no evasion. Even the one soldier who went to jail that night for excessive speeding, who could have drawn out the legal proceedings and missed months of the deployment without raising an eyebrow, quickly settled his affairs and made formation an hour before the flight. Blue Platoon is ready to roll. We drew our weapons from the arms room, completed the flight manifest, and Hope and I even managed to work in a game of Scrabble before we had to move the proceedings to the gym. She (narrowly) won, thus breaking a recent winning streak of mine. Hopefully not an omen.
The entire battalion convened inside the gym for an hour, a final chance to say goodbye to our families, and Hope and I barely restrained ourselves from making a scene. Not that it would have mattered, of course; the entire place was replete with the sound of crying. It was gratifying to see how many of the families of my men had come to see their soldiers off. But what struck me was how many of them just gathered among their battle buddies, alone and without family support, and patiently waited through that hour. The stereotypes about Army life, and the people who choose it, are occasionally and tragically correct. A lot of these guys—very good men, who deserve better—have nobody. Some are estranged from their families, some have focused their entire lives around the military, and some are just alone. They’re shipping out for very different reasons than I am, typically. The Army is a chance for them to break free from home, or from a cycle of poverty, or to give them opportunities for education and jobs that otherwise wouldn’t have presented themselves. It never ceases to amaze me how so many different people of radically diverse backgrounds and rationales are gathered for a common cause. When we get into country proper, though, I would deeply appreciate any gestures made on behalf of those men. Even cards addressed to “Dear Soldier” have an effect. It reminds them that people at home are still thinking of them, even as the war starts to wind down and take the backburner as the Afghanistan campaign receives the attention that it so desperately needs.
The flight out was, as if the Almighty was enjoying a moment of dark humor, delayed. So after I had kissed Hope goodbye and sent her back to the hotel for much needed sleep, Blue Platoon spent the better part of that day in the terminal waiting to depart. When we finally did get the wheels up, that evening, we had already been awake for something on two days. So the sleep on the plane was pretty good. And in the true Army form of treating soldiers in garrison with a sort of detached neglect but lavishing resources on those deployed, the food was good and plentiful. We even managed to spend a few hours on layover in an airport in Ireland—the first time some of these men had ever been abroad. We actually had to take one soldier’s credit cards from him since, in his excitement, he couldn’t stop buying trinkets and souvenirs. Red, as we’ll call him here (he once wrote on an Army form that the two languages spoken in his home were English and Redneck), had to be reminded that he would soon have to physically carry all of his possessions around the country, and infantrymen are already loaded to capacity. But there wasn’t an Irishman in the entire terminal who didn’t have a picture taken with him. “My God, sir,” he observed with a delighted fascination, “they look just like us!” We’ll give his cards back eventually. Maybe.
Finally, on Monday morning 15DEC08, we landed in Kuwait. From the airport in Kuwait City we took buses (with armed escort) to Camp Buehring, where I’m writing my first deployment entry. We’ll be spending a few weeks here conducting final training and preparation. Weapons will be zeroed, night vision and other equipment tested, and additional armor installed. It is COLD. Not Minnesota cold, but a kind of dry, windy cold that only the desert can accomplish. We grabbed our gear and struggled into our tent (more like a building at this point, as it has a floor and heat), and finally got to drop that weight. I probably weighed well over 450 lbs with all of that stuff on, and I imagine the smaller guys physically comprised of maybe a third of their total weight, so the relief was palpable and sincere.
So, we’re here. Not really in deployment yet, but the days are already ticking down. Kuwait is just the last waypoint on a journey that started when I took the platoon six months ago... or maybe the next to last stop on a two year epic beginning when I decided to join This Man’s Army. I had grown tired of academia and politics and wanted to get my hands dirty (sandy?) doing something where I knew people were needed. Well, there’s plenty of work to do here, and much more up north. And on that point, I’d better stop typing and catch some rack time so we can get back to it. My love to Hope and my family. We’re all safe and sound.
