Long Hours of Boredom…

I just don’t seem to be that motivated to write anything lately.  I don’t know if its the fact that not much new is going on, or whether I just don’t have energy anymore.  I read other milblogs for ideas, but new material is hard to come by here.  Its basically the same routines everyday.  People think the war here is a lot of shooting, blowing things up, and IEDs every day.  The media portrays Iraq as this long never-ending battle where US Soldiers are always engaged or about to be engaged, but thats just not it at all.  Its long hours of boredom punctuated by short periods of terror (I think I read that somewhere), and I guess that’s the crux.  The long hours of boredom are just that and I find them worth writing about as much as readers find worth in reading them.  However, since this is a sort of “realtime memoir,” I will do my best to continue to recount my experiences in this wasteland.

I will admit that I have had a lot of experiences to carry with me for the remainder of whatever life God has left for me.  I continue to have new insights into the world, Iraq, politics, and the human condition in general.  I am learning to deal with new hardships, and other people’s problems.  However, its about time to go home.  We have been here so long, that our usefulness as a whole is about done.  Everyone I know, including the fobbits, are exhausted, worn down, and ready for something, anything, different. 

Speaking of Fobbits, I read a piece by Jeff Emanuel, an embedded journalist.  After he was done with his embed, and he was preparing for his return, he noticed the stark contrast between those of us who leave the wire, and those who don’t.  His words struck me as an almost perfect analysis of the “two armys.”

As I sit here at FOB Warhorse, I am already experiencing a bit of that alienation from the “other army” that those who are doing the real fighting in this war feel when they leave their patrol base sanctuary and get around the rest of the military again. Here, there are people who have never seen this war except as it appears in their copy of Stars and Stripes, or as it is told them by others. There are forty-five inch waistlines in Army ACUs and PT gear; there are people who actually have nothing better to do than to walk around correcting others on their appearance; and there are people who have never once experienced the combined senses of thrill, terror, risk, and purpose that accompany going “outside the wire” day and night for the sole purpose of engaging the enemy. Though it is a poor, judgmental reflection on myself to think this, I cannot help but look down to a degree on these “FOBbits” who are the *other* Army in this war—the pampered, comfortable, well-fed, relatively safe one—ESPECIALLY after having spent an entire month with such a combat-weary, battle-hardened, experienced, efficient, and *heroic* group of people as the men of Charlie Company. Much like all combat journalism is not created equal, all combat deployments are likewise not created equal.

It was only one paragraph in the entire article, but it struck home with me. I don’t think of myself as combat-weary, battle-hardened, experienced, efficient, or heroic, and I know our tour has been nothing like C Company. However, I cannot help but draw the same comparison. I also do not have any animosity towards those whose jobs keep them on the FOB daily. They serve an important function in this war.  They provide the logistics, Command and Control, Food, Maintenance, and everything else an army needs.  I just don’t get why some of them have to be so self-important as to sit outside MWR and spot check every soldier that comes out to ensure their PT Belt is over their shoulder instead of around their waist.  I understand the need for “Good Order and Discipline,” but such inane things are just carrying it a bit too far in my opinion.  Soldiers who are in the fight everyday really do have more important things to worry about.  Is the M2 clean and serviceable?  Is your Truck in good shape?  Did you get any sleep between patrols? Please just use a little common sense when making these inane rules that really serve no function other than to validate someone’s existence.  Remember your purpose – Combat Support/Combat Service Support.  To SUPPORT those in Combat, not harass them with unnecessary rules. 

You know, this was the first deployment I have ever been on where I saluted officers on a FOB, patrol base, what have you.

Now that I am done with that tangent, back to my original thought, if there was one.  I have come to the conclusion that after more than a year here true apathy has set in.  We are warned from day one not to get complacent in our routines, to always keep an eye out, and to always stay “situationally aware.”  What they don’t tell you is to remember it will all, in fact, come to an end.  Fifteen months is a long time.  Just ask my wife and daughter.  When you live in this constant state of stress (There is always some level of stress here), eventually you just wear down and become so apathetic that you don’t even care if you get out of bed.  Everyone gets it, especially as the days start to close and the calendar starts to wind down.  This month marks one year here in the same little 6×6 living space with the same group of people everyday, the same crappy food and lack of water, the same patrols – The same everything!  See what I mean. 

I am looking forward to going home.  It has been almost 2 and a half years since I spent anything more than a few weeks with my family.  My daughter is about to turn three, and if I am lucky, I will make it home to see her birthday.  I look forward to waking up in my soft bed, my wife next to me.  I want to drive my truck, the one without armor or a turret, to the local store and not have to worry about being blown up.  I can’t wait for a medium rare, thick cut, steak from a real restaurant.  Heck, I am even looking forward to daily routine at the unit.  Normalcy, not apathy.  It still seems too far away to think about, and there is so much left to do here.

Hmm, I guess I did find something to write about after all.  Don’t know if it made any sense at all, but there it is.

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