Category Archives: Deployments

Battlefield

On August 2, 2015, late in the evening just before midnight I almost died. In all the things I’ve done in my life and lived through, it was me that almost took my life. I attempted suicide. I failed. Not the first thing in my life I failed at and it certainly won’t be the last. It’s been six months. Part of me thinks I should already be further along to finding normal again. Part of me has accepted that I must find and accept a new normal. It is a daily struggle. It wasn’t until five months after my attempt that I was actually glad that it failed. But I do still struggle with my thoughts from time to time.

I had a good plan, but obviously it was flawed. I spent 3 days composing my suicide letter. I re-read it a couple months ago for the first time since I wrote it. It was dark. It was apparent that I was not even close to being in my right mind. I look back at the person that wrote it and I’m not even sure who I was at that time. I’ve tried to piece together all the details that took me to that point and it’s not as easy it should be.

I saw the police report. It was sobering to see how close I came to being dead. In the officers statement he said that he found me unresponsive, but breathing. He went on to say that as he approached me, he couldn’t see my face due to the condensation on the clear trash bag that I put over my head and tied around my neck. I don’t know how long I was out but when I woke up I hurt. My chest hurt, I was breathing hard, I couldn’t sit up and ended up falling on the floor. I was scared, confused, and didn’t know where I was at for a moment. Then it all came flooding back. I was supposed to die, but didn’t .

After getting me up and moving, and regaining my faculties, I got checked out by EMS. I was told that they’d be taking me to the hospital by cop car. I resisted briefly and made it clear that I wasn’t going anywhere with them. I saw the officer that was behind the one that had been talking to me take a more offensive stance. I guess when you tell the cops you aren’t going with them, they are up to the challenge. It didn’t come to that. They told me that my oldest daughter was on the scene and that I had a choice of going out to see her first, or to be dragged off in cuffs in front of her. Her being there saved me from further trouble and embarrassment. She still had to watch me get cuffed and put in the back of a police car, but it certainly could have been worse. The story of being in the hospital will be for another time.

A couple weeks after my attempt I wrote a poem called Battlefield. I’ve mostly kept it to myself.   The very few handful of people I’ve showed it to have encouraged me to share it, to publish it. I think I’m ready to do that now. Since I know some of you won’t get the “22” reference I will explain. Approximately 22 veterans a day commit suicide. There are a number of organizations that use “22” in their efforts to bring awareness to how many veterans take their own lives on a daily basis. I was almost one of the 22 on that day but I guess I waited too late into the night and the quota had already been met.

Here’s the poem.

Battlefield

By David George

On the battlefield he did not die

Fearlessly served by comrades’ side

Bullets and bombs whizzed on by,

But not everyone there came home alive.

 

His body intact, his mind gone mad

To see him now, doesn’t look so bad

But the wounds he carries are just as sad,

As the ones brought back in a body bag.

 

Try as you may, you don’t see his pain

But he can’t avoid it, it’s in his brain

His memory becomes one big stain,

Of war and darkness again and again.

 

The enemy failed in bringing him down

But he’s losing the battle of himself right now

Hard to reach out, he doesn’t know how,

But without some help, to his demons he’ll bow.

 

Fate is cruel and already knew

He’d be the next member of Club Twenty-two

He took his own life, sad but true,

Another one gone, what do you do?

 

Going to war was the easy part

Do your job and do it smart

Had all the training from the start,

His death this way should break your heart.

When you look at the number of Service Members that we’ve sent to war and brought home it’s sad that so many lose the battle of themselves after returning. I think I can speak for all of us who have been to the dark and hopeless desire to die that we would have much rather died on the battlefield than to go out by our own hand.

If you or someone you know needs help, help them. Get them help. Don’t let them slip through the cracks. You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t even have to fix the problems, you can’t anyway. Just be there and help them get help. I had people helping me, but I cut them off and stopped letting them help. Don’t let that happen. Don’t get offended or take it personal. And don’t be afraid to ask if someone is thinking about suicide. Be direct. You get a more honest answer and a better opportunity to help.

I’ve still got a long road to go. I’m not in the dark place I was before, but I don’t exactly know where I’m at anymore. But I am ok. I promise.

Take care, God bless.

Dave

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