Category Archives: army

More Than Our Life

I’ve slacked off some in keeping the blog updated.  There’s only so much we can talk about from here and to be quite honest, every day is the same as yesterday at this point.  We have a countdown for us to go home but I’m trying to not pay attention to it yet.  To me it’s still a little early for that.  I have a few more missions to go on, I have tasks to complete, and I have a lot to keep me busy getting ready for our replacements.  I see the light at the end of the tunnel but I’m not keeping up with how many days are left until that light gets to me.

For those of you that keep up with my Facebook page, the poem I’m going to share in this blog might be familiar.  It’s called “More Than Our Life”.  I wrote it a couple of months ago after being inspired by real life events, some close to home.  But I didn’t tell the story of it on Facebook, just posted the poem.  As I tell this short story I will not be telling you anything that hasn’t already been release by the military or the Pentagon.

Sometimes events or people or combinations of multiple events and people inspire me to write.  Sometimes it comes out in the form of poetry.  This was one of those times with “More Than Our Life.”  On December 17, 2013, a helicopter went down in southern Afghanistan.  It was reported that all six Service Members died.  But it was reported in the media that a mechanical failure caused the crash and it was unknown if our enemy had any involvement with that or the deaths.  The report I saw later that evening on our secret email mentioned the enemy.  I won’t go into detail about those events, but the crew was killed by the enemy.  It was about three weeks after the crash that it was confirmed by the Pentagon that the crew was in fact killed by enemy fire.

That same day I was on a helicopter going from point A to point B.  But I made it safely to my destination.  I remember one time how one of our trips got delayed by a week.  During the time we would have been at that base, they lost six Service Members in three separate incidents.  One time we flew into a base just a few hours after a plane crashed short of the airfield, there were no survivors.  I remember sitting in bunker hearing the explosions getting closer with each boom (“Couldn’t help but wonder, was today the day?”).  But the rocket attacked stopped.  These might sound like near misses or close calls, but they are really bonding agents for those of us that work and travel together over here.  This is war, this stuff happens all the time.  And the poem that follows is my answer to people when they ask, “What’s it like to be there?”

More Than Our Life

David George

As the war goes on, we’re front and center

This Life and Death world, we chose to enter

Siblings of our Uncle, we call him Sam

Tho sometimes it feels he doesn’t give a damn.

 

We shared the same bunkers, Booms came down

Sirens blaring to us, all around

Showing no fear, but still afraid

Couldn’t help but wonder, was today the day?

 

The bonds we forge are not understood

By mortals back home, who only know Good.

For even if we die, we’ll still live on

In our fellow Soldier, we’ll carry on.

 

We trust each other with more than our life

With our thoughts, our secrets, and our strife

Forever we will be, for each other

Here in this life, and if there’s another.

 

And as the war draws down, we’ll try to go home

But never the same as when we started to roam

The memories of here, forever embedded

But for all the friendships, forever indebted.

 

Thanks for taking the time to read this.  Let us remember those that paid the ultimate sacrifice. Take care, God bless.

Dave

My Hardest Job

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted to my blog. I’ve been busy. Plus, there’s only so much we are allowed to talk about from here. I have tons of inspiration and great stories to tell, just can’t really tell them all right now. I guess some of my stories will have to be told to the grandkids one day. But what I can tell you is that unless something catastrophic happens, 2013 in Afghanistan will have the fewest number of U.S. casualties in six years. I’m using numbers from icasualties.org for my source. Their last entry for a U.S. casualty is December 17, when a helicopter crash killed 6 U.S. Soldiers. On that same day I took a helicopter flight from Bagram to Kabul. It wasn’t long after I landed that I learned of the crash.

I didn’t personally know any of our recently fallen here in Afghanistan. But I still feel a loss and my heart goes out to the families. In the past I’ve been in a unit that lost a member. And as the chaplain assistant I had to help coordinate the memorial ceremony. That’s very emotional for all involved. I could see the pain and reflection in the attendees as they cope with the loss. My job has also given me a front row seat to passing on bad news. I’ll never forget being in Iraq and being present when a chaplain informed a Service Member that her husband’s plane had gone down in Afghanistan and that there were no survivors. I can still see in my mind her reaction. I can still feel the pain she was tormented with as she cried uncontrollably for what seemed like forever. Time seems to crawl during moments like that. I think it gives us time for the images to be forever etched in our minds. I have a number of those images in my mind.

My job isn’t terribly hard, but it is emotionally draining at times. Earlier this year when offering comfort to a Soldier during his loss of a family member, I put it all to words in a poem entitled “My Hardest Job”. I will share that with you here. Enjoy. Good day, God bless.

Dave

My Hardest Job

We’re built to be tough- hard and strong,
Trained to keep going when the days get long.
We learn to fight, to shoot and kill,
Our soul is busy- never still.

We fight the battles when called upon,
Without distraction we soldier on.
I’ve gone to war- seen the dead,
Images of that, etched in my head.

I’ve done all the jobs I’ve been given to do,
For the love of the army, and my country, too.
But when Taps is played and we say goodbye,
My hardest job ever is watching a Soldier cry.

Jonathan and His Armor Bearer

In 2007 I ended a fourteen year break in military service by joining the Army Reserves. I specifically came back in to be a chaplain assistant. I know I was older and not in as good of shape as I was when I got out the first time, but I would fix that, at least the not being in shape part. And since I never mastered acting my age anyway, I always feel younger than I really am, so I got that covered, too.

The first unit I was put in when I came back was the 787th Combat Sustainment Support Battalion in Dothan, AL. The unit was deployed when I got there so it was a skeleton crew, per se. They didn’t have a chaplain when I got there. But a few months later I met Chaplain “Mac” when he got assigned there. We worked together for a while before I was cross-leveled to another unit for deployment to Iraq. A year later I came back and we worked together until some time in 2010 when it was time for me to move on. I needed a unit closer to home and also one that I could advance in rank.

As I left, CH Mac expressed his gratefulness to me for my service while there, shook my hand, and told me that if he ever deploys he was going to call me to go with him. CH Mac and I had a great working relationship and got along very well. But I always thought the words he spoke to me about calling me back if he deployed were just something nice you say to someone when you part ways. Never did I think he’d really call me. In 2012 he called me for a deployment for the following year.

In a recent conversation we had on one of the missions we’ve gone on, we talked about that. I told him I remember what he said but that I never thought it would happen. There were plenty chaplain assistants available and I am far from being the best. So I asked him why he called me. His response was immediate, almost like he was expecting the question. He said, “I wanted someone who was willing to die with me if necessary.” He wanted me because of my loyalty. I’ve always prided myself on being loyal.

This made me think of another story of loyalty and bravery. Found in 1 Samuel 14, Jonathan and his armor bearer exemplify the loyalty/bravery relationship. I will paraphrase the story starting from verse 6. Jonathan told his armor bearer to go with him to the camp of the enemy because maybe the Lord would work for them. Maybe? Read the story, Jonathan wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, only that he knew God was with him. The young man who bore Jonathan’s armor responded, “Do all that is in your heart. Go then; here I am with you, according to your heart.”

Reading on a little further in the story we find that Jonathan received the sign he was looking for that would ensure the Lord had delivered the enemy into his hands. And we also see that if it had been the other sign, the victory was not promised, yet Jonathan and his armor bearer would have stayed and fought in defeat anyway. To receive the victory, they had to completely expose themselves to the enemy, climbing the mountain on hands and knees. I wonder what the armor bearer was thinking. He was tagging along on a mission of 2 against an entire encampment. But he stayed loyal to Jonathan.

A few months ago at Ft Hood, I shared with CH Mac the story of Jonathan and his armor bearer in reference to how I view our relationship on this deployment. I am the armor bearer and I challenged him to be Jonathan. What God lays on his heart, I will follow him. That’s the kind of trust I have in my chaplain. Going back to why CH Mac chose me for this mission, I believe God is with us and will give us the victories He gave to Jonathan and the armor bearer. But should it go the other way, I will have stood loyal to the end.

It does cross my mind sometimes where we are and all the things that could happen. But I know for a fact that I am where I’m supposed to be, doing what I’m supposed to be doing, being the armor bearer for CH Mac. It is without fear that I say, “Do all that is in your heart. Go then; here I am with you, according to your heart.”

Good day and God bless.

Dave

The True Risk

This post was removed for a while to make someone happy, even though it had been approved for publishing here. So, I’m putting it back. Enjoy.

Every weekend in September my chaplain and I travel from our compound to another to provide religious support and to participate in a ceremony honoring the fallen of our NATO forces. For more on the ceremony, see my blog entry titled “The Ceremony.” Every trip comes with some element of danger. Some of our trips have even been canceled. Most of the trips we made were in armored NTVs (non-tactical vehicles). One week we walked to our destination for a trip that lasted only a couple of hours. We were only on the roads for about 5 minutes, but it was quite an adventure to walk the streets, to see the people and the traffic up close. Turns out, we weren’t supposed to walk, at least not those of us in my unit. But that’s a whole other point of grief I won’t get into here.

On this particular weekend we were all geared up, ready to walk. We were wearing our protective gear, including a protective vest, helmet, gloves, etc. I had my M9 and my M16. I was ready for the adventure. At the last minute we found out that our walk was canceled and began scrambling to find a ride. We did, our drive team came through like the professionals they are.

Early Sunday morning we are setting up for chapel service. The Navy Captain that plays piano for the services asked me to go to the gate of the compound and escort his Afghan National Army friend to the service. So I set out on my mission. I made my way through the compound to the gate. I went out to where I thought I was supposed to meet him but instead found myself on the street, outside the compound, without my gear. I had only my M9 with me, and nothing in the chamber. I looked around to see a few locals walking the street. There was almost no vehicular traffic. I walked toward the entry checkpoint down the way from where I exited. I wasn’t afraid and never felt threatened being outside the compound. But it was a very surreal feeling.

I found the gentleman I was looking for. He was dressed in his uniform talking to another Afghan Soldier who was also waiting for an escort to get into the compound. He had a genuine smile and was very happy to see me. I greeted him in his native tongue and he returned the greeting in English, shook my hand, then embraced me. I led him through the gates and checkpoints and then to the chapel. We talked about his training he had been to in the States and where I was from back home. He spoke very good English.

As it turns out he is a Christian, something that puts his life in jeopardy here (hence, I will not use his name or rank). As I sat there during the service, I pondered all this. Here is a man who not only is willing to risk his life to make his country a better place, but also to risk everything in his life to go to church and fellowship with other Christians. This moved me.

They say we, as American Soldiers, risk our lives everyday by being here. I know this to be true when I attend the ceremonies and see the names of the fallen. But I have never felt threatened or in danger since I’ve been here, not on any of the missions I’ve gone on, not even when we walked in the streets. (This changed as we started traveling all around Afghanistan). Maybe that’s my American culture of taking things for granted or maybe I’m just old enough to know that we can’t live forever anyway. Whatever the job at hand, we are willing to do it not matter the cost. But in thinking about all this, I am humbled and ashamed that I take so much for granted. It’s easy to do what I do with all the cumbersome protective gear I have to wear. There is some safety in it. There are no repercussions for me going to church or being a Christian. But this Afghan Soldier, to do what he did, to go to church, to be a Christian here, is far more risky than anything I have ever done. His reward will be great.

So I ask you this question as I close: What are you willing to die for? More importantly: What are willing to live for. Dying is the easy part. Can you handle living for what you believe?

Good day and God bless.

Dave

9/11 in Kabul, Afghanistan

Twelve years ago today America changed. We weren’t looking to change, we didn’t necessarily want to change, but it’s a change we were forced to go through. We will never be the same again. I’ve followed all the posts today on Facebook in my news feed about all the remembrances, the pictures, the support for both the victims of the attack and the Service Members still fighting a war that’s supposed to be winding down.

As 9/11 approached, we double checked ourselves, made sure everything was good, and stayed vigilant. No worries. We’ve been doing this for a long time. But I think what happened today caught everyone off guard. No one saw this coming.

As I came out the door of the building to throw a box in the dumpster I could hear the commotion on the streets outside the walls of our compound. It was after dark. I could hear people yelling, horns blowing, and noises that sounded an awful lot like gunfire. I could see flashes of light in the air. I noticed that everyone outside was calm. Looking to the sky, but calm. Why wasn’t anyone taking cover? We are in a war zone after all and I realized for sure that is gunfire I hear. After my trip to the dumpster, I walked to the gazebos where the daily gossip and b.s. stories could be heard for the day. That’s where I found out what was happening.

The Afghanistan soccer team beat India to win its first ever international trophy in soccer. The people were celebrating. Since I don’t follow soccer, I’m not sure, but I think this puts them in the competition for the World Cup. The Afghans have something to cheer about. And they were cheering. Fireworks and real gunfire. Hollering in the streets, horns honking. I could only picture it from where I was. I sat at the gazebos for about an hour listening to the people on the other side of the walls. I watch tracers fly over the camp and could hear the rat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns. Don’t these guys know those rounds have to come down somewhere? I saw one of the Afghanistan interpreters sitting out there. She was smiling, taking it all in. I could see the APPF (Afghan People’s Protection Force) guards at the gate. They were happy, shaking hands with some of the Afghan workers from our compound that walked by on their way to their quarters for the night.

Afghanistan is a nation that has been torn apart for the better part of 34 years by war and government unrest, Soviet occupation, Taliban choke hold, corrupt politics, and more. And for many years before that this country has dealt with tribal and ethnic divisions as well as religious unrest. The Afghanistan soccer team has brought some unity and happiness to this otherwise dismal place to be. The people here have a reason to stick their chest out, something to be proud of. I am truly happy for them. I hope they win again. Maybe with less gunfire next time, though.

I heard a sports announcer say one time, “Winning changes everything.” I don’t believe that to be true in the broad perspective of life. Tomorrow will be the same as yesterday, only today was different. But I do know that here, for today, winning a soccer game meant the world to a nation. And I’m glad I was here for it.

Good day and God bless.

Dave