Into The Breach…Hello Friend.
First, a note.
I have written this piece at least seven times. In my head or on paper it has transformed since I received notice of the deployment. But as I read more and more from writers like Daniel Fisher I am called to deeper crevices of my mind to think of something better to say.
Or if I should say anything at all… but then I read Carrie Morgan tweets this morning:
We’re writers. Our job is to use words to describe the ineffable. To help people who’ve never experienced X understand the experience of it.
Don’t tell me that people can’t understand […] experience. Go, be a writer and use your words. Help us understand. Narrow the gaps.
So thanks Carrie. We’ve never met but you’re on the list for beer, wine, or whiskey. For your sake, I hope its whiskey.
I feel like I’m visiting an old friend after a long absense. He’s over there having a drink and I get to come saddle up next to him and sit for a spell. We’ll converse about life’s problems. We’ll bitch and moan. But war, like most friendships, is mostly boring except for periods of chaos and intensity.
This friend of mine is the kind of man you don’t want to dissapoint. You never want to be late for the rendezvous with him because you never know what you may miss out on. It is important I keep my appointments with this friend because I like him… and yet he makes me do terrible things to myself. We occassionally get into trouble but that’s what friends do… right?
My fellow writer and comrade here, Phil Walter talks about his being back home and the ordeal it can be to return. I felt…feel the same almost every day. But there is a longing to return to the fight and it has been pulling at me since last year. That struggle of being home yet reaching out for the fight hit me hard one night this past summer.
So I had an argument with this friend of mine a few months ago I was going through some personal struggles and I had to take a walkabout. So I grabbed a familiar jacket that used to be black but now is a dirty brown from the sun. Yet TAD makes a good piece of gear and I’ll never lose it. I set out in my old Merrill's and strolled. For some reason my friend hates my clothes and is always destroying them. It seems he feels I need a new wardrobe every time we meet.
This jaunt was my attempt to forget about him but forget my troubles too. Little did I know that I would be turning to my friend because of it. As I walked I noticed a house along my route that I have always wanted to visit. In the window is a simple, single Gold Star Banner. Knowing what that means I approached the door carefully because I did not want to cause too much trouble for the family. Little did I know what I would get on the other end of the door.
A man maybe ten years my senior opened the door and he asked what I wanted. I explained I was a reservist and I was just walking through and saw the star and I wanted to hear his child’s story. It was then he let me know that he was a retired Army officer and it was his oldest son. The details are not important here but the dad in him saw me crack. I have dealt with Gold Star Families before, I have friends like Donleigh Gaunky who is one but I was not ready for this. He told me how his son had been killed in action and his personal thoughts on the matter but while I stood there and poorly attempted to mask my emotions he spoke to me.
He talked about how we, veterans and those still in, miss the calling of being at war. His primary concern was that I wanted to commit suicide. No such thought entered my mind but I’m glad he talked about it. He made me make a promise to talk to someone the next drill. I did and after discussing this possible meeting with an old friend, I get this text:
I’m going to reenlist in order to deploy and I only want to be on your team.
I was awestruck.
Now everyday since then my purpose has been renewed. Like the Gold Star Father said, we look for something with a purpose and we often find it lacking back stateside. I cannot begin to explain how true that is. After my first deployment to Afghanistan in 2009–2010 I immediately and without thinking volunteered for another deployment that would of left in the fall of 2011. There is no death wish. There is no glutton for punishment. There is only belonging.
That father, that veteran, that Soldier spoke to me that night and reminded me of that old friend. I needed to go see him. I needed to shake his hand again and have that beer.
Hello friend, it is good to see you again.
JM is an intelligence and security specialist in the Army. The opinions expressed are his alone, and do not reflect those of the U.S. Army, the Department of Defense, or the U.S. Government.
