Just Like The Movies

You know that scene that’s in half the war movies out there, the one where the hero is given a medal and he refuses it, or he gives it to someone else?

“I don’t deserve a medal for my actions,” our hero will say, “ The young men who bled with me do…” and he tosses it away. Or he takes the medal, turns around and hands it to the 18 year old private, fresh of the farm. Heartwarming.

And I always thought these were things for the movies only.

A soldier gave me his Army Achievement Medal today. Not an hour after he received it, he told me.

“Hey, you ever get one of these?” he said, showing me the medal.
“No, I have not.”
“Well you can have this one. I don’t want it.” and he tossed it to me.

I argued with him for ten minutes, not feeling like I should take an award that he and his battle buddies earned. He wouldn’t take it back. He never said why he didn’t want it, he didn’t have some bloody tale that refuted his deservedness. I guess he just didn’t want it.

“I’m giving it to you because of my feet,” he told me. “I have really smelly feet, the other night I looked down and saw you sleeping and thought man, you must be miserable. And you don‘t complain about it or anything.” Our bunks were next to each other lengthwise, the foot of his up against the head of mine.

Funny thing is, I did complain about it, two days prior to a buddy of mine.

His feet did really stink.

This guy, I found out after talking to him a little more, was working next to the Pakistan/Afghanistan border. That was where his platoon was stationed at, probably some dinky little Combat Outpost in the mountains. I know of the area, and I know that it is considered one of the more dangerous places to be over here. So I'm guessing this guy is indeed deserving of the award he threw to me.

Even if he doesn't think so.

It makes me think about the level of appreciation people have for combat weary veterans such as this man. There was undoubtedly a time when veterans from a war were showered with gratitude and respect. I'm willing to bet this man goes home to a city, a county, a state that wouldn't look twice at his name in the paper. And maybe that's exactly what he wants.

Now I'm not going on some self-righteous, "I deserve more" rant, and I'm not trying to say that every soldier is a hero. I'm just pointing out the soldier, exhausted and ready to get home, tossing aside the little piece of iron or bronze that says he's a hero.

Doing it because we really don't need that kind of attention. Not all the time, anyway.

Keep on keeping on, friends.

So.... This is Afghanistan...

I have the uncanny knack for sleeping through incoming rounds.

Three separate times now I've been asleep while the base has taken IDF, or indirect fire. Twice I've woken up just in time to hear the "All Clear!" resound from the intercom speakers.

To be fair, whoever it is firing these Chinese rockets at us has horrid aim, maybe hitting inside the wire one time out of twenty. So I don't feel I'm putting myself in any intermediate danger by snoozing through it. Still, it's a tad bit unsettling to know that I have the ability to sleep through most everything.

Let's say you, the reader, would like to experience a little Afghanistan at home. Fair enough. Here's what you can do. First, gather all the trash up on your block, every last can, and throw it all into a burn barrel. Douse it with diesel and light it up. Now you can smell what I smell.

Next, camp out at the edge of a flight line at O'hare in Chicago. While there, light off the biggest, loudest fireworks you can, and have a buddy light off some small ones 6oo meters away. Now you can hear what I hear.

Now you can combine some sort of fog machine with that burning trash pile, and fan it in all directions. You can see what I see.

Finally, eat all your meals at a higher end High School cafeteria. You're successfully tasting what I taste.

Pretty simple stuff, really. It's not all bad, I eat more ice cream here than I ever have back home. And I've blown through the first two seasons of Son's Of Anarchy this last week (great show, by the way). My only problem with the place so far, I haven't seen a damn camel yet.

I really want to get a picture with one smoking a cig. We'll see how that one goes.

There are more civilians on this base then I thought possible. It's like a city around here, only much shittier. I feel like I'm in Waterloo, Iowa (Zing!).

8 months to go, give or take. Keeping my specs on for that camel.

Wish me luck. And keep on keeping on, of course.