Tag Archives: war

The Cage With Prison Bars

I’ve met them all and put them in their respective places. I know each of them by name. We’ve come to agreements that, quite frankly, don’t benefit anyone involved, but there had to be agreements, whether they mean anything or not. I can’t make them leave, they are part of me and who I am now. I can get along with every one of them very nicely. Except one, except the one that wants to kill me. I keep him locked in a cage with prison bars. They are all my demons and I have them under control.

I entertain them occasionally, just to make sure they know I’m in charge, if I am in charge. Except the one that wants me dead. I won’t let that one out of the cage. But all the others come around once in a while, and if I feel like it I will pet them and send them on their way. They are free to roam because they have learned the rules and boundaries. Except Suicide. That one stays locked up. Behind prison bars. That one cannot be tamed like the others. That one does not play by the rules. That one scares me, even from behind the bars.

When all my demons ran wild and controlled me, it was chaos. I locked myself in that cage with prison bars to stay safe. But that didn’t work. They poked and jabbed through the bars. They laughed and made fun of me and threw things at me. And Suicide was the worst of them. That one won’t stop until you do. And I believed them for a while, every word. And they were right, they convinced me anyway. Except that they were wrong, I learned that later, after it was almost too late. It was hard, but I put them in their places, even the one that tried to murder me. Especially the one that tried to murder me. That bastard is behind bars now. But that one still scares me. That’s the only one I’m truly afraid of.

I look over my shoulder occasionally from time to time to make sure my demons are staying in their places, where they belong. They are for the most part, even the killer that is locked in a cage with prison bars. When I look over my shoulder at that one, it smiles calmly, not bothered at all about being locked up. That one knows that even from the cage it can get me if it wanted to, if I let it. I have all my demons under control except that one, which is befuddling to me since that’s the only one locked up. In a cage. With prison bars. No freedom to roam. Suicide stays quiet in the cage making plans for a reunion. I have no intention of showing up to that party.

But if you have demons of your own, maybe we can get them together for a play date party.

With Force and With Grace

March is Women’s History Month. With that, I thought I’d share a poem I wrote a couple years ago in Afghanistan about women in the military. The military has changed quite a bit over the course it’s existence. One of those changes have been the role of women in the military. When my grandfather enlisted in the 40’s to serve in World War II, women’s roles in the military were largely limited to secretary, nurse, personnel, or some other jobs that might traditionally have been for women. When my dad enlisted in the late 60’s women’s roles had already started to expand. When I enlisted in 1989 women could do most any of the military jobs available, but were not supposed to go into combat, and there were still a number of roles that women couldn’t have. My son enlisted last year. Now, women can go to Ranger School, Combat Engineer School, and do a host of other military jobs that were traditionally left to men.

This poem is for all the women I’ve served with over the years and the ones that paved the way for the ones that serve today. Many women went into the inspiration of this piece. One in particular was Amy, that I served with in Afghanistan. She was on her sixth deployment in her army career. She was always professional, always sharp, knew her stuff, and took care of her Soldiers. Everything a Soldier should be, man or woman. There is a small handful of people that I have served with that I looked and knew I should model myself after, if I were to be a better Soldier. She is one of those.

I hope you enjoy the poem. Feel free to share it with a female Service Member in your life. Good day, and God bless.

Dave

With Force and With Grace

 

Hidden in her eyes are things we cannot see

Stories she won’t tell- not to you or me.

But to her fellow warriors, maybe it is told

Of how she served her country with the brave and the bold.

 

No more pretty dresses, or heels upon her feet

She dons a Soldier’s uniform, makes it nice and neat.

Her hair must now be tucked, underneath her hat

No more shiny earrings, or pretty stuff like that.

 

Been to war her share of times, the battles she did face

Got the job done every time, with Force and with Grace.

Rising up, in the ranks, to where she is today

Did not come without a cost, what price did she pay?

 

A Mother, Wife, Sister, Friend- but some don’t understand

How could she leave those things to fight on foreign land?

Many Titles she must carry, this is all too true

One that matters most in battle: “Soldier”, through and through.

 

She is a Female Warrior, fellow Soldier, and my Friend

Admiration and my loyalty, will likely never end.

Side by side we fought- the Enemy we did engage

As Soldiers, not a gender, putting rounds down range.

 

And she is a Soldier, tough and strong, yes, among the best

In every fight, in every challenge, she has passed the test.

Male or Female, boy or girl- should not be the theme

I have seen her in the battle, and want her on my team.

The Ceremony

Sometimes I wonder how I got to where I am. Not how did I get to Afghanistan, but how I got to be where I am, doing the things I’m doing, working with the people I’m working with, seeing the world in a way that so few get to see it. Some might think it’s weird for me consider myself lucky to be here, in a war zone, away from many of the comforts of home, away from my family. I do count myself lucky to be able to serve, even here. We do have some of the comforts of home, though not near as comfortable as being home. And while I miss my family back home dearly, these that I serve with are my family here. Putting it all into this perspective, I like this life’s adventure I’m on.

One of the things I have experienced recently is the memorial ceremony at ISAF (International Security Assistance Force) held each week in front of the headquarters building there. I mentioned this in a Facebook post a short while back, but I’ll go into greater detail here. I should note that my chaplain did the most recent ceremony and will do a few more as a fill in to the usual chaplain. The ceremony is only about 10-15 minutes, held outside. The back drop to the podium where the chaplain speaks is the Afghan flag, the NATO flag, then the flags of the Coalition Forces that suffered a loss. The chaplain starts the ceremony, then a senior military leader from each of the Coalition Forces reads the names of fallen from their respective country, an Afghan National Army leader says a prayer for his fallen and states how many (too many names to read at the ceremony), the bagpipes play, and chaplain concludes the ceremony.

It’s fascinating to me to be standing there with so many other Service Members from all over the world paying respects to the fallen. Up close to the center of the ceremony there are a couple of foriegn units in formation, but for the most part, we just find a place to stand in the background and watch. We all come to attention when called. We listen to the prayers and words of comfort. Then, seemingly as quick as the ceremony started, we all go our separate ways, back to what ever it is we are assigned to do.

The United States was the only Coalition flag up at the most recent ceremony. Five American Service Member’s names were read. The first time I attended the ceremony it struck me how quick it was. I remember thinking to myself, “How can we pay proper respect to the fallen so quick?” Not just for the U.S forces, but for who ever gives their life in such a manner. As I pondered this in the week in between ceremonies I came to a conclusion.

We stop here only long enough to recognize the fallen. We have a job to do. While our hearts are heavy and we feel a loss, we have to move on and complete the mission we’ve been given. If we stop too long we get distracted. We don’t have time to memorialize, grieve, morn, or reflect. At least not all at once, not here. It has to become a background thought. It can’t be foremost in our minds lest we lose track of what we need to do to get the rest of us home safely.

Even though I didn’t personally know any of the names called at either one of the ceremonies I’ve been to so far, I still feel a connection and a loss. Maybe it’s the kind of connection that only exists for those that wear or have worn the uniform, I don’t know. But it’s a sobering reminder of where I am in the world today and what’s going on around me. Each time I go outside the wire I take it all in. I look at the people on the streets, the shops, the traffic, the advertisements. As I file it all into my memory of life experiences, I make sure to find a place in there for the ceremonies so I don’t forget we are still at war. Sometimes it’s easy to not think about it from the inside of the walls, and forget what’s going on the outside.

Take the time remember the fallen and their families. Pray for them. Pray for us. Pray for our families back home doing all the hard work of keeping homes running. We will continue to do what we do until our job is complete.

Good day and God bless.

Dave