When the Smoke Clears

From RSM:

A light breeze made an already pleasant morning under the trees even cooler, calmer. It was Sunday, and we were outside the chapel waiting on our Drill Sergeant to come retrieve us and take us back to the barracks.

Across from me sat a large, young boy with a face full of exaggerated features; large eyes, lips, nose. His eyes were red, glassy.
“I just, I don’t, I don’t want to die,” he softly heaved.

So that was it. That was the reason for all the questions about how soon we might be out of Iraq, whether a plumber will see combat, whether my recruiter lied to me (one of the most common phrases heard around here). And then there were the questions about God.

I decided to stay after the service for Bible study, and he stayed with me as a battle buddy. He’s from another platoon and for some reason wanted to talk.

I’ve not been ready for the kind of talks that I’ve needed to have around here; conversations about wives, husbands, girlfriends, death, the Bible, Christianity, combat, integrity.

I’ve helped people avoid attempting to start reading the Bible at Revelations. A drill sergeant has pulled me out to pair up with a young soldier who just received word that his wife had a miscarriage. And then there are those who are desperate to get out of Basic, out of the Army, and feel trapped. They see the people here who have gotten hurt, who have to stay here while recovering for months, no email, no TV, nothing but waiting as if in prison.

This boy was experiencing an incredible sense of loss of freedom.

His mind is racing. He’s full of questions. He looks for me whenever we go anywhere as a whole unit.

“Can you hold on until next Sunday?” I ask.
“I think so. I just, I don’t want to be here. This is not me,” he said in his Wisconsin accent, tears rolling down his face. “I can do all of the physical stuff, but I just don’t want to go to Iraq.”
“What’s scaring you?”
“My drill sergeants. The keep talking about all of the people who they know who died. I’m just 18. I don’t want to die.”
Tough line to walk now… “Why did you join the Army?”
“‘Cause my dad said maybe I should do that for a few years, then go to college.”
“Do you want to go to college?”
He looked off at the sky, picking at the grass. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you know there are always risks, and the military is risk. But you could just as easily, if not more easily, be killed driving down the highway here in the US.”
“But all those people over there that have been killed…”
“And the people here,” I countered, “in the US…”
“I know,” he cried.

I’m really not ready for this, and it seems to keep coming up. So we made it to the next Sunday, and now I am even more worried. I’ll have to talk with his drill sergeants, but clearly, the boy misunderstood what he was getting into, and now has to learn to live with the consequences of his actions.

And I hope to help him discover the real Army is not exactly the same as Basic, before he does something wrong or hurts himself.

But whether I’m ready for this or not, it’s happening, every single day.

From T1G:
A side note from RSM informs me that he has done well enough on the range, he is now assisting as a coach.

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