Everyone has their own version of a good and bad trip. It’s always either you had a good trip or a bad trip, but never both. If you ever experience both, you have a bittersweet taste, kind of like that sweet and sour candy some of us used to eat as a kid that would make your mouth pucker uncontrollably. On this adventure, I had the pleasure of experiencing the good and bad, the fun and boredom, the gain of comrades and the loss of a friend.
Dating all the way back to March of 2008, my unit was preparing to hop on our one way ticket to the sand infested countries of the Middle East. Everyone began making their final calls before we got the command to move out. I was alone at the time. Single and all my family immediate family being in the States, and no way of reaching out to them, I was left to wonder, worry, and drive myself practically insane. “You’re gonna be fine,” I kept telling myself all the way to Kuwait.
Fast forward to a couple months later, because Kuwait was uneventful and boring as ever, except for the fact that is was hotter than a ghost pepper there. The flight to Iraq was by far the worse that I have ever experienced in my (at the time) 19 years of being alive. For those who know nothing about combat landing, this is where the pilot circles and drops altitude simultaneously to avoid any type of attack, such as small arms fire, rocket propelled grenades (RPGs), or anything that can cause damage to the plane or the personnel on the flight. When they initiated this monstrosity of a behemoth plane to maneuver in a hawk-type circle pattern, I was fast asleep, but immediately woke up with stomach-heart-throat syndrome (when your stomach is where your heart is supposed to be and your heart is in your throat). Safe to say no one was hurt by the pilot or the supposed small arms fire we received while combat landing. Later on that night was the beginning of the many bad, but awesome experiences that were to come of my 15 month rotation this sandbox of a country would bring.
“EVERYONE READY?” said the soldier in charge of transporting us to our permanent station in the middle of BFE (Bum Freak Egypt). We all started loading up the two CH-47 Chinook transport helicopters with our equipment, weapons, and bodies in the dark of the night. Remember when I said the plane ride was bad? This was worse. It was so bumping, it felt like we were driving in a car that hit every pothole on the road. I didn’t care about the ride, because I was more worried about why the pilot had deployed flares from the back end of the helicopter. Came to find out that we were being shot at (here comes the awesome part). The pilot then relayed a message to the rear gunner of the Chinook, who without hesitation, moved to the other side of the helicopter, and picked up what looked like either a M249 Squad Automatic Weapon or a 240B machine gun and began firing in a vertical position from the end. My eyes lit up like a fat kid in the For the Love of Chocolate candy store. Once the adrenaline died down from all the excitement, we landed at our destination, unloaded our gear off of the helicopters and proceeded to move to our nice tents to rest for the night.
For the next 4-6 months we spent our time transitioning in to replace the previous unit. One infamous night, soldiers from the 3rd Infantry Division were out on the porch of a man-made hut, which looked like something that would be featured on the DIY channel. My section leader and I were out there with them, silence was in the air, and then a flash filled the air followed by a loud BOOM. We looked at each other not knowing what the hell to do. They looked at us and simply said, “Outgoing.” We were ready to run to the nearest bunker.
Between months 7 and 12, I have been there long enough to not be afraid of anything that moves except camel spiders. Oh how I hate those things. For anyone in the audience who have a fear of spiders, these little gremlins will really bring it out of you. They can jump, run fast, and have some really mean bites. My team members spent most of their boredom chasing them and trapping them in glass bottles. I didn’t want to understand why simply because I just wanted to kill them. Month 9 was a tragic time for me, for this was when I lost my good friend Specialist Jamel Bryant. At the time of the incident, I was on the Quick Reaction Force waiting for a call. We received word of a rollover accident not too far from the base, so we prepared ourselves to roll out as soon as we got confirmation to do so. Our QRF commander verified it was him, but with that came a deep sorrow within me. We then deployed to where it happened in some type of a chance to recover the damaged vehicle, and save my friend. We got there just in time to see the gunners hatch on the ground next to the destroyed MRAP (Mine Resistant Armored Personnel vehicle). As we sat in our Humvees watching over the vehicle, I turned to my team member SGT. Leonard Howard and said, “There is no way he could have survived that.” And I was right. He was Medevac’d to the nearest clinic in the area where he then was deemed DOA from internal bleeding from his crushed pelvis.
Months 13-15 was the final stretch to the finish line, but the job was not done yet. These months were spent on guard duty with people I met from another unit and a few from my own. I enjoyed most of it due to the crazy things we did. We even had the pleasure of entertaining some wrestlers from the Former World Wrestling Federation (Now WWE). These experiences are some of which I loved and hated. Without them I would not be the somewhat deranged, caring, easy to talk to or easy to cuss someone out person I am today. From this experience I learned that your life can be gone in an instant and there ultimately nothing that can be done when it your time. However, while you still breathe, live your life and live it to the fullest of your ability. Life is a precious gift. Never take it granted.