Barney
Well-known member
Fifteen years ago today, I returned from my last deployment. This one was to the sandbox: Iraq.
Physically, mentally, and emotionally it was the most difficult thing I ever did. Previous deployments to other garden spots somehow didn't have the effect this deployment had on me. It was also the finest thing I had ever done or will ever do. We worked 12 hour shifts, 24 hours a day, seven days a week with one goal: Saving lives.
Young men came to us, ravaged by war. They were missing arms legs. testicles, noses, feet, and hands. They were covered in sand and blood and offal. They were children. Too many never got the chance to reach adulthood, but they were men, doing a man's job.
I was privileged. to work with some of the finest people I could ever know. Together we cared for these boys. Most went home to their loved ones. A few, but far too many, were set to Dover AFB in Delaware for preparations for their final trip home.
It is quiet in my home. Carol has gone to bed and my dog, Gracie, has her head next to me. She knows when I am melancholy. It is at times like this that I see those young boys, hear their cries and smell the coppery taint of blood. Tonight I will dream of the lads. I will see them and pray to a merciful God that their souls rest easy in that portion of Heaven reserved for young heroes, cut down too soon.
When you go to sleep tonight or tomorrow, pray for their young souls. Until the day I die, I will see, taste, and hear the Emergency Room at the 332d Medical Group, Balad AB, LSA Anaconda, Iraq and the too young men who came through our doors.
Physically, mentally, and emotionally it was the most difficult thing I ever did. Previous deployments to other garden spots somehow didn't have the effect this deployment had on me. It was also the finest thing I had ever done or will ever do. We worked 12 hour shifts, 24 hours a day, seven days a week with one goal: Saving lives.
Young men came to us, ravaged by war. They were missing arms legs. testicles, noses, feet, and hands. They were covered in sand and blood and offal. They were children. Too many never got the chance to reach adulthood, but they were men, doing a man's job.
I was privileged. to work with some of the finest people I could ever know. Together we cared for these boys. Most went home to their loved ones. A few, but far too many, were set to Dover AFB in Delaware for preparations for their final trip home.
It is quiet in my home. Carol has gone to bed and my dog, Gracie, has her head next to me. She knows when I am melancholy. It is at times like this that I see those young boys, hear their cries and smell the coppery taint of blood. Tonight I will dream of the lads. I will see them and pray to a merciful God that their souls rest easy in that portion of Heaven reserved for young heroes, cut down too soon.
When you go to sleep tonight or tomorrow, pray for their young souls. Until the day I die, I will see, taste, and hear the Emergency Room at the 332d Medical Group, Balad AB, LSA Anaconda, Iraq and the too young men who came through our doors.
