Father of one

F.B.I.

2009-02-16T01:50:00.003-06:00

I pulled out my Bible tonight and I started flicking through the pages. I invested a limited amount of time and witnessed the passing pages; I left it open. I opened the Bible to where I'd left off and read a bit. I left it open to go back and revisit the idea of beginning again because beginning is where one thing stops, and another begins.

I opened the idea of finishing undergrad this week, I applied to what will be my final undergraduate institution. I sought out a dream and will visit it this week when I finalize my classes for this up and coming term. I dreamt I had my Masters in Criminal Justice, that I was working as Special Agent R.M. for the FBI. I've dreamt a lot of things, but none that have felt so real. I've planned out the path that I'll pursue. And this blog will help me see it through.

S.A. R.M.
FBI

DC Blogger 2

2009-02-06T19:55:00.003-06:00

I'm starting to wonder what bleeds red but isn't quite leaking. The Red Line train before and after Washington Caps games. These fans are proud supporters of their team as they're decked out in a sea of red and white. I proudly supporting my white and blue $20 baseball cap that boldly states, "COURAGE;" all proceeds go towards the Fisher House Foundation. I stand and watch as these drunks file onto the train, "Step back the doors are closing," is bellowed from inside the train, the all-so-typical Godly voice has become annoying. I'm half squeezing to get in as the kid in front of me puts his metal arm in the door to ensure he gets on this train. I look down as he's wearing shorts and Asic sneakers. He's decked out with a hockey jersey on; proudly supporting the number 8. I notice too that he has one leg, and one prosthetic. I say, "Thank you," and he laughs, he says, "Why," I say, "For your service," and he smiles. Not knowing I too am in the military he says, "I was just doing my job."

He shares in on a conversation with the guys around him, one is in a wheel chair and on him is a little girl playing with her doll. Beside him is a woman, who calls the girl Lizzy, the girl answers and says, "Daddy." Beside Daddy is a black guy with a boot on his foot. Next to him stands a man with prosthetics, and beside him sits a pretty woman. We all grab hold of the hand bars and the conversation begins. The soldier with two amputated legs remembers my face and says, 'Hey what's up Sarge?' I mumble an answer not relating to the question, "This fucking cold sucks." "Well so does not having legs," I stop and think, and get caught in conversation. They're joking about the guy in the boot falling down the stairs. Everyone things it's hilarious except for the guy who fell. They joke about how people keep pushing the guy with no legs as they're getting on and off the train. He jokes about how he's going to take his leg off and chase the guys down next time. We laugh because it's not PC, we laugh because that's the only emotion we choose to remember.

I think forward on how life will be in their near future, life after Wal-Mart, life when they are one of maybe two in their hometowns. I wonder if their humor will change when the jokes turn towards them. I don't even want to wonder what their feelings will be when their life yet again changes. Before I realize it, we're at Tacoma, they get off, offering well wishes for my evening, "Goodbye," I say in reply. I feel thankful to be alive, thankful to be whole, for these guys I want to go back overseas, because of them I want to be stronger than my enemy in the next fight.

"Step back the doors are closing." I hope they don't close on those guys like it had on his arm. I hope there are endless possibilities for those heroes and all those who come home wounded in war. I hope noone ever closes a door on them; ever.

The DC Blogger

2009-02-06T19:09:00.005-06:00

She's fair, not tarnished; her shoes look like her girlfriends. She's waiting for the Metro outside on the Chinatown landing. Her scarf makes me think she could be cold, but her shorts remain a mystery, lovely girl, lovely girl, why are you, lovely girl, lovely girl, who are you?

This one 'sports New Balance, her newspaper tells me she couldn’t quite afford the Times, but her University of Northern Iowa sweatshirts tells me why! She scribbles on a crossword debating, not deciding, debating, scratching out her official answer. Her cluelessness moves me on to the next victim.

She's married, or at least she wears a ring. Her hair is uncombed and is in need of a cut. She has black pants, a brown coat, and in her hand she grasps a Jan sport backpack. I'll call this pretty lady 'Steve Madden' because her shoes represent the same. The pink bag on the ground by her feet as the Metro begins moving, inquires questions to me and another on looking eye. The twin shoed girls outside on the platform, notice the same bag I had just paid notice to, our eyes meet and it's awkward. I scribble a bit more. Steve Madden’s scarf tells me she may be cold, but her leggings dowse that idea at Judiciary Square as the smell from the Asian seated beside me drifts my once concentrated thought.

She's carrying an orange lunch box, the kind I use to carry back in fourth grade. I remember digging potato chips from the bottom of the bag and placing them in a baggy, the baggy inside my Thermostat lunch box. I remember putting kool-aid in the thermos, and making a peanut and jelly sandwich to eat with the chips and kool-aid. I wonder what's inside her box, I question chicken or beef? Fried rice or white? "Ignorant," I write, as we reach New York where Steve Madden get's off. 'Cute butt, dirty shoes.' The Asian's nails make me wonder if she even washed her hands today, I mean she had to have pissed at least once, and who knows if she's had to wipe her ass; I wiggle away.

Did I forget to mention the lesbian in the soccer sweats who got on at New York? She is actually pretty cute until her face signaled for a pepperoni pizza. And no wonder her clotta ring is facing towards me, I guess I have a habit of attracting lesbians, as the train reaches Tahoma Park. I stand up with the fear of catching a disease from ridding the red line metro, I stand up and wait for the train to stop once more, stopping for me, stopping to let me escape the grasp and confines of DC transportation. I stand and feel eyes critiquing me, I turn and smile, offering a friendly gesture to those I had just scribbled in my book, I turned and smiled, offering the same friendly gesture that was given to me, the train stops as I quietly say, "Welcome to Maryland," only this time there's no cops behind to expel the same; with their red and blue in my mirrors, and my car on the way to the shop as the semi-driver struck my GTO, "Welcome to DC," he said, as I walk away from my car, "Welcome...Welcome..." DC welcomes...but I can't seem to say goodbye quite yet....

Ideas for a second Novel...the ending to the beginning.

2008-12-01T23:09:00.003-06:00

So I've started writing again. I've started writing what I hope to be the final stretch of my Novel. currently I have close to 34k words and well.. I need about 60k to make it a pretty good read. Fast, but good. I need to add more to the pieces I've since written. I need to finish this because already I have ideas for my second novel. I'm going to write about the aftermath of War. What happens post war. I'm going to tap into the lives of my current soldiers. I'm going to be the outsider...looking into what these patients have going on. MUCH of the second novel will be told from the second person account, but I will attempt to switch the stories into a 1st person narrative. And leave an outro on their Tale in the second person expository vantage point. Much of what I'll have to say I'll collect from the notes I write daily at work, but I will leave out their names, and identities for again (like the first novel), the fear of being sued!

And so I write and I write on...
I believe this will be the ending of my 1st book, let me know what you think.:

Ending:

I woke up from the dream some years after being over there, and when I did I wanted to stop telling my story. I figure the only real way to end the questions that I had come home to, was to actually put down what happened on paper and have the reader intemperate our story. I often find myself digging at the shrapnel inside the back of my head, picking and ripping the scabs thinking it’ll all be out with another scratch or two. Once I was actually so upset, not because of what had happened to me, but because I couldn’t get out what was left inside.

Sitting in my car on my lunch break, I grabbed my six inch knife from underneath my seat and tried digging it out, but the only thing that came out was the puss and blood from me stabbing myself repetitively. “How do I explain this when I go back upstairs,” I thought. “I’ll just tell them my shrapnel is starting to come out, they’ll be sure to give me the remainder of the day off.” Even after going home, and a cosmetic surgery, I never got all of those pieces out.

In the end, after I’ve picked just a little closer to the shrapnel, as my fingers pull away the scabs, the only thing that shows is where I picked because even though the pieces keep pushing nearer and nearer to the surface, I can’t actually get close enough to dig away the traces of what Iraq left behind. No matter how far I dig, no matter how much I write, I’ll never be able to uproot the truest story that I would expect any of you non-combatants to believe or even fathom. It’s because of this I decided to write my story, to allow a sensation to arise that maybe you didn’t have before reading this. I wrote to give you a perspective inside the 10 by 10 din which I lived, the 10 by 10 din that I hear Saddam once slept in. I wrote this to give hope to those who are true heroes, both those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, and those who came back maybe not with battle injuries, but with invisible injuries, to give wounded veterans a book to call their own.

I finished this because I needed to let go of something that had been crawling inside of me and I couldn’t quite let it go. I wrote because of you, the greatest war fighter in the world, I wrote this for, well, I wrote this for even you.

My Brother:

2008-10-26T01:12:00.002-05:00

"If I could sit next to you we would make music.
One brotha nailing in a line,
the other brotha coming with the rhyme.
Two plus Two never got any one of the brothas 4,
the number always rounded out to 9.
That's 9 generations of violence,
that's 9 generations of crime,
that's 9 times 9 and you better not say 144
because the brothas never saw the history
because the brothers never came that day to begin the first line."
-Ryan "Skeeter28" McCallum

We must come together to begin our legacy within our history. We must show the world that we're better than a COPS tv show, we're better than a Rodney King, and "OJ," We're more than a Michael Johnson, a Michael Jordan, a T.I., we're more than just entertainment. We must come show what we're capable of through voice, and Change.

(and that's all I've got)

Positives in me: (Parody below)

2008-10-15T22:39:00.004-05:00

I’m 23 and have a beautiful little girl who idolizes me.

I’m taking that woman who had my child to court to gain my rights.

My motorcycle has saved me a lot of money on gas this summer.

I sleep in comfort.

I am employed and my employer wants to promote me.

My student loans just increased my credit score.

I’m in the National Guard.

Even after a roadside bomb and multiple head injuries, I’m almost whole again.

I have 2 hands, 8 fingers, and 2 thumbs.

My family communicates through text.

I don’t communicate with my father

Facebook reminds me of the birthdays I forget, and my Pin number to my debit cards will always remind me of Sarah’s birthday!

I save money by not sending cards, I just send an email!

I see true and honest beauty, and when I capture it, it’s mine.

Fortification is usually a pleasant encounter!

I have had intimate relationships with women.

I wear a watch and set multiple alarms, but am never prompt; who is!?

Girls ware themselves out too quickly, the chase is worth half the fool’s gold.

I usually keep most people guessing!

Emotion will often times kill you.

I keep a scope on my friends and enemies alike.

Today’s women are often too foolish to trust.

I can use my memory loss as a tool of advantage! But usually I seriously forget.

I understand now what it means to seek out a ring for a woman to wear; forever.

I still have it hidden away for my daughter. When she wears it, I’ll remember the woman I wanted for her mother; once upon a time.

Those who wish to view my blog, can do so as they please…it’s posted on Facebook and now Myspace J. Fear is for the weak.

Death should be welcomed instead of feared.

I’ll show you how it’s done, but I’m not going to continue to do dirty work.

It’s not my job.

I was good enough for a few things, and those things I shined brightly at.

My hunger gets the best of me occasionally.

I am an evening socialist who has made several friends at the pub.

Philosophers were plagued with deep thoughts, and look at their remarkable discoveries.

Status should be attained early in life!

Greygoose vodka on the rocks!

I have health insurance now.

I don't care.

Summer Lovers (1982)

2008-10-15T21:38:00.004-05:00

I been on a chick flick binge the past week or two. I've watched one chick flick everyday this week and several last week. I haven't had the pride to write about one until tonight as I was witnessing the absolute beauty of love captured in one film; Summer Lovers (1982). In this compelling flick, 1 American couple whose relationship has survived 5 years of togetherness and ten years of kinship, travel to foreign Greek Islands in hope of a long hot summer of compassion.

Almost three days into their summer long vacation, He, finds a local girl and is tempted by her essence. This temptation becomes a type of love that, maybe you only see in a movie. But it makes you wonder if it's possible for a happy couple to meet and love an outsider as they do each other. The local girl begins living with the American couple and when it's all said and done, they loathe leaving her for the fear of life after the endless summer.

The same director of Greece and the Blue lagoon creates this masterpiece that makes you want to have a 3-some. I don't think I'll ever forget the heartfelt joy and the brilliant sense of happiness I felt at times during the movie. I not only want one woman, I want two so I too can see what it's like to be adored by multiple women and to have them adore each other, all at the same time; but something tells me this fantasy which I reside only comes true in the movies.

Daryl Hannah, Peter Gallagher, and Valérie Quennessen. Directed by Randal Kleiser, shot on location in Greece.

Negatives in me

2008-10-08T02:57:00.003-05:00

I'm 23 and I still haven't completed the one thing I set out to do years ago. I still don't have a degree from college.

I don't take as much time as I should and apply that towards my daughter.

I have an expensive car and a motorcycle.

I'm sleeping on my mom's couch.

I don't have a real job to pay my unfortunatly REAL bills.

I'm going to default on my student loans.

I'm in the National Guard.

My hand is always hurting.

I type with my middle finger, I treat my index finger like it has AIDS.

I hardly ever call my siblings.

I dont have communication with my father.

I have a hard time remembering birthdays.

I forget to send cards.

I love whatever I see, and whatever I see usually gives me the time of day.

I enjoy sex.

I'm a whore.

I have bad timing.

In my head, girls have a shelf time of approximately three weeks.

I'm complicated.

I have limited emotion, unless it concerns me fully, then I might give a damn.

I'm scared to get too close.

I don't take women seriously.

I have memory loss.

I brought an engagement ring.

...I took it back when she realized she couldn't wear it.

I type in a blog and would rather not share my feelings with anyone except this portion granted to me by blogspot.com.

I forgot what being scared feels like.

I don't care whether I live or die.

I'd rather have someone else do it.

I am lazy.

I was never good enough.

I over eat.

I over drink.

I over analyze.

I spend a lot of money on status.

My heart is set on Greygoose.

I won't have health insurance in a few months.

I don't care.

Air Jordan

2008-10-03T01:20:00.005-05:00

I've been interested (I guess that's what it's called) in quite a few girls this past year. In the Army this is pretttty normal, we live a life of guns, girls, bullets, booze, destruction, and death. I met the most recent girl on a random night on the town with an old work friend. SMITH introduced me to her when he picked me up for dinner at my loft. I had no idea what I was in for, nor did I expect the night to proceed as well as it did for me....

Smith, this girl Joran, and I went to eat at this Mexican restaurant in Moline, IL, for some apparent reason we were interested in Margarita’s, I mean honestly...who doesn't get one when you fine dine at an expensive Mexican restaurant?! She wore a white shirt with a black dress, and a scarf that I initially asked myself "is she cold, if not why is she wearing that scarf?" as the night progressed and the conversations turned from simple brief bios, to evening ideas, to long-term life plans, in a semi-superficial yet very emotionally involved way; we bonded. After three checks were dished out by the server who appeared to have had a few too many enchiladas, we decided to head into Iowa and sit at my favorite bar in the Quad Cities Area.

After we arrived at Kelly's Irish Pub, Smith ordered the first round of Goose, soda, 2 limes. I wanted to impress Joran, so I brought the second round. Smith went to the pisser at some point between drink one and two leaving Joran and I an awkward conversation about our life's plan. She told me her story about how Florida was her alma mater and how she also went to Florida State to complete her Masters in Speech Therapy; this subject I was incredibly interested in because I had at one point seen someone similar in her field with my brain injury, and I wanted to figure out how exactly the diagnosis comes about by these professionals. In my head I decided to save this incredibly long conversation for another day and when Smith came back to the table which would be moments from now, I would ask if they wanted to go somewhere else...Joran said she wanted to hear a live bond, and Kilkenny's (my bar downtown) had a live band playing; this I was sure of. So we again jumped in Smith's car to head downtown Davenport, IA.

When we arrived, the bar wasn't incredibly packed, yet it was decent enough that most patrons only waited somewhere between a minute at the bar and two minutes before being waited upon by one of the two bartenders; that is, unless I came to the bar to order (this time), two Goose, sodas, 2 lines, and a Goose, 7, 2 limes. I really didn't appreciate the flat taste of the mixed drink with soda, the Goose didn't sit right in my stomach— it wasn't sweet enough for my liking. The drinks were stiff and they both commented on their liking of the place, but before we could even take a sip from our rocks glasses, the band began tearing down their set, getting ready to leave for the evening... I apologized to Joran because the band was leaving; I asked her if she still liked the place before I went to the pisser to unleash the build up that had been there all night.

Upon my return I asked Joran and Smith if they wanted to dance, my smile grew larger in my pants, but not before she would say yes, not before she would ask where's Smith, not before I'd get her a drink from the Carriage Haus bar; VIP drink pour. It was at the moment Joran's hips swung left and right, it was the moment my hand graced across the small of her back, it was then that the DJ says my name over the Mic and I offer a smile back his way; both knowing I had a winner at my fingertips. My smile grew the moment she knew it pressing against the back of her thin black dress. I was nervous at first not exactly knowing what her take on the size of the smile would be; she sort of stopped and looked behind over her shoulder into my eye, and kept pressing harder on my smile, offering a friendly facial gesture my way. I knew then that she had accepted the size and continued dancing for several hours. Smith would come and replenish our glasses and well, Joran and I would accept his offering in stride, beat matching beat, in perfect step.

There was a point in the night where the music seemed to stop, breaking our stride, I don't remember if the bar was closing or if at some point Smith had stopped replenishing our drinks, but at some point in the night, we were broken from our trance and it was decided that it was time for the evening to come to a close. We walked out the front door and Joran and I exchanged phone numbers; anticipating never to see her again, "I hope you don't just take it, but use it soon," I told her."I was planning on calling you tomorrow when I woke up, if you want to do lunch?" I smiled at her and said, "I hope you do." And she was taken out of my lovely evening.

As I walked across the street, I realized that my stay in the Quad Cities might not actually be so bad, now that I have a new yearning who too occasionally smokes cigarettes.

Free Rambling

2008-05-03T02:45:00.001-05:00

I'm not quite sure what I'm going to talk about tonight, so I'll ramble freely...

.

If the rain doesn't let up, can I self-distruct?

2008-04-08T20:21:00.008-05:00

It's pretty random how my moods are lately. I met a girl who seemed like she'd be the perfect replacement for whatever void it is that I thought I needed filled. In all actuality, it was her who needed a void filled. Now grated the farthest we took things was first base, I nobly couldn't muster myself to want anything more. It's seriously funny how easy it is to get what you want...all I wanted was someone of the opposite sex to sit with and watch a good movie, read a book to, walk around outside with her pooch and throw the stick around. I honestly, wanted nothing more physical than what an old man with shrivel dick does to his wrinkled saggin' baggy titted wife; company with light affection. All the things that in past relationships no ones really wanted, I was able to finally get. So it turns out that when I considered the possibility of us dating, everything went to shit. I still miss the dog, I still miss sitting there, laying there asleep, comforting her when she's sick, the random text messages, cooking for a girl, being cooked for, being called a retard, stupid, an idiot, but I'm honestly okay knowing we're not together. I take my life one day at a time and limit the girls I decide to (or not to) let into my life.

My therapist had me go to my comfort place today, so I went to Sarasota, Florida. She started rambling and I couldn't keep up so I stayed in my safe place. I stayed there all day, I was a walking talking, bike riding Sarasota citizen. I smiled, I mean I really smiled thinking of going back there to live...I closed my eyes and imagined listening to John Meyer with the convertible top down turning left onto Siesta Key Boulevard getting ready to enter the Key. My eyes looked up into the blue skies and the smell of the ocean loomed ever so close. My Braves hat was on backward with the widows down, I had on a sleeveless shirt, and my Express khaki shorts, as the arrow flashed from red to green...I came out of my safe place into a combat zone of a rainstorm. I was soaking wet when I parked my motorcycle in front of my building at the Arsenal, I didn't mind it though, I didn't mind anything.

I enjoy dating, I do. I enjoy everything that accompanies it. I like seeing that person truly smile because it's me they're happy with. I like watching their hair wave in the wind, I like a girl who dresses up because she feels good about herself when she does. I like when she reaches for the bill and asks me to cover the tip, instead me me pay...bill and tip. I appreciate honesty and LOVE to be touched and kissed. Not that I'm into a dominatrix, which I actually might be, I just like the idea of someone who is able to take care of them self, someone who doesn't know what they want in the opposite sex. I guess what I'm striving to say is, my name's Ryan, I think I'm a pretty honest guy, I hope I find a girl who is interested in something different than most guys....

She said I screamed in my sleep

2008-04-01T01:07:00.004-05:00

A new friend of mine asked me after I purchased my new motorcycle, she said, "Ryan, do you have a death wish? ...are you afraid of dieing?" I jokingly replied to each, not quite taking the time to consider the answer. But when I'm alone, the only thing that really scares me is living. At least when I die, I don't have to worry about who I impress or what girl might be interested in me, because in the end, when we've outlived our dreams, when the police sirens stop yelling across town, when the heat is consistent, with no air conditioning left, we are guaranteed death. I don't welcome it, but I'm not afraid of it, I already shed my tears of torment, maybe if I come back and I'm missing limbs, maybe then it'll be different.

And I wouldn't want to come back without my army, my legs, my pretty boyish face. Those guys are braver than me.

2008-03-02T22:32:00.002-06:00

i am literally broke. where has all the cash gone?

OEF

2008-02-11T11:22:00.001-06:00

I volunteered to go to New Orleans a few short years ago to aid in what was one of this countries greatest hurricane disaster. I went down with a group of guys that were considered to be the rear detachment of alpha company first battalion, one hundred thirty-first infantry. Certainly I missed home, but none like when I went to Iraq. I volunteered to go across the pond with a couple guys that I had befriended well before the hurricane, and was gracious to have gone with them. Now, now it's time for a new adventure. I'm volunteering to take yet another trip across the pond into another destination unknown, unknown to who? unknown to me.

For Hurricane Katrina, I went with some really cool guys straight out of basic training. I thought I deserved my Specialist rank because I had been in a year and a half. When I was in New Orleans, the thing that tipped me off the most was coming home from Basic and seeing guys that I had led in training, guys who I was the Platoon Leader for at Benning, getting promoted. Here I was, some young chap, this guy not quite demanding respect, but trying to teach others what I had learned, so they too could learn something, and teach it to others. PFC McCallum became Specialist McCallum Oct. 25, 2005, upon return from Katrina.

I desired an education, and that's what kept me happy, financially and psychologically. I was in school, getting my G.I. Bill, and my Tuition Assistance from the Army, and loving life! Then an answer to a question was given to me one snowy day in February...sometime two years ago; Iraq. I wanted onboard; I wanted to live out the dream that had been playing in my head. But I had no idea how worried things would get for me. I wasn't quite ready for the onset that would take place. Psychologically, I was prepared for war, and ready to get it started; let the bodies hit the floor! I met my company, I met my squad, I met my team. Spc. McCallum turned to Spc. Mac. With a new name, a new face, I was ready, but it wasn't that easy. I have no desire to talk about Iraq because I need to close that chapter in my life and move on. I met the prettiest little girl in the midst of me turning towards Iraq, and her name was Kristen. I will say this, meeting her was probably the worst thing that's happened to me in years. See, she's amazing, she's wonderful, and she’s perfect. But I couldn't take her with me. She couldn't handle the distance. It was obvious that I couldn't handle the distance as soon as my attitude changed; I became more hostile and more an ass to everyone around me. It's war, WAR is hell.

When I got home, for a while I've had a difficult time concentrating, I feel like my tour isn't complete, like what I've wanted to do isn't over. Spc. Mac turned to Sgt. Mac.

Afghanistan is on the horizon, I'm throwing my name in the hat. I can't sit around and wither away. Sure a degree will look good to an employer, but this deployment, instead of doing it for someone else, which essentially I had done before, this deployment is all for me, so when I get there and I have my sour attitude, it's because of me, there's no one else to blame, but my HOPE is that my attitude will be nothing but positive. My Hope is that I have a great time with a new group of hard chargers...that's the hope anyway. I will leave sometime this summer, and I am eager to get started.

Early Therapy

2008-01-20T23:04:00.001-06:00

I had a really hard time adjusting to life back at home. Constantly I would wonder what was wrong with me and why did I constantly drink. Honestly it was the only thing to cure my pain. In the hospital I would wake up at around 0720 and would attempt to be ready for therapy at 0800. I had forgotten how to walk, or at least the pain medications that I was taking prevented my legs from walking to therapy. I had raging headaches which have yet to reside and honestly I refuse to tell my doctors about them because I just want to end this medical hold process. I just want to be "normal" again, if that's even possible. I didn't want to see daylight, so keeping my shades closed helped my migraines. The CNA would help me to the bathroom and I would piss the night's suffering away and then I would sit in the wheel chair to be pushed to therapy. The pain in my right hand limited my movements, well, I limited my movements because if I didn't the pain would return and I would start my day horribly. On the travel down to therapy, we would pass soldiers in uniforms of all sorts. Sergeant Majors would walk by and their superior complex would almost be diminished and they would turn their Flag shoulder away from my sight as I was quick to notice the badges and patches that labored their uniforms. Many guys wore expert badges but most bore no sign of war. It was there that I was proud of the patches I wore, or would one day wear, as soon as I could refit myself in my uniform again.

I would see 1LT McGriff everyday and she would torture my hand asking me if it hurt, as if my constant whimperings weren't enough. I would hold my breath as she squeezed my hand into a fist and I would fight against the scars that were growing within. I had a Digital Nerve repair of my index finger, and had a partial tear of my flexor tendon. The objective she said, was to curl my tips and touch my palm, all while in the intrinsic plus position. My hand was stiff, and I couldn't move it on my own, so she made a splint for my to wear. The contraption sucked, flat out, I hated it. On my fingers, she super glued these hooks, which were then banded by fishing line. So the hooks were pulled by the fishing line, and at the other end of the fishing line were Velcro which stuck to my forearm, or the brace which kept my hand in the position we were trying to attain. This shit hurt. I was suppose to leave this damn thing on 21 hours out of the day and the remaining three hours I could take it off to stretch. Well honestly, I kept it on for 3 hours, and 21 hours out of the day it was off. The brace made my nails feel as if they were being ripped off, and it made my fingers go numb. After the hour session, I would be wheeled back upstairs to my room, and I would request IV dilotted to be injected into my vein to diminish the pain, after the injection, the pain would be released instantly, and I would again be comfortable, and wouldn't wake up until around lunchtime. For lunch I would take percocts, and would open my IV valve a little to inject more of the antibiotic into my arm, I would fidget with the meal, maybe I would message a few friends on Facebook or Myspace, send an email, and by that time I was again comfortable, and wouldn't wake again.

Dreams are far and few, but when the do brew, usually they're about Iraq. I remember laying in bed and the new nurse came in to check my IV, when she did this I was having a nightmare about sleeping in my humvee and being crept upon by insurgents, and just as the nurse touched my hand, I awoke from my nightmare and I karate chopped her with my right hand, my bad hand, thinking an insurgent was trying to cut my throat. Consequently, I hurt her, and more importantly I thought I had torn my stitched nerve because the pain that followed sent me to tears, but not before I cursed the new nurse for sneaking up on an OIF/OEF soldier, while asleep.

A New Beginning

2008-01-14T21:39:00.000-06:00

On New Years I sat at the bar with a group of my friends behind me looking on, almost asking why. I sat there and listened as the mass around me counted down from ten. I went back not ten days or ten years, I went back to last year. I remembered New Years in Baghdad. I was working that night and we had to do the Midnight Chow Run. I was in charge so Roe and I grabbed as much Near Beer that they would give us for the New Year Celebration. We brought back some balloons and some New Years Hats. I flew in the humvee back to the work site, radioed to the Guards in the Tower that we were SP Chow hall time now, and we would RP their location in 6 mikes. We had 15 minutes to get into the Dinning area with the food at that point. The roving guards instantly met us at the truck and started unloading. They immediately scarfed down their meals and that left us with a countdown. My roommate Den and I cracked open our Near Beers and toasted the New Year. After the toast it was time to change guards, so Roe and I went and and waited for the Ninjas, and or para sail into the compound from the Mosque...Stop laughing, our LT seriously thought we would be attacked by para sailing and water ninjas.... Fucking officers. Where were they at when I was freezing my ass off at 3am sniffling in my ninja poly pro, cuddling up with my battle position buddy? The fucker was asleep in the NCOIC office or playing xbox360 with the NCOIC.

So this New Years, I toasted to forgetting about Iraq. I toasted to forgetting about the pain and remembering the fun times that we did have. Looking back, it WAS that bad, but I am certain I will re-enlist and go back to war, because that's what WE do. That's all I'm built for, the only thing for me is the SUCK, and honestly, I don't know what my life would be like with a degree. I can't see myself in a cubicle...if I am offered my E-6, I will accept it, and will re-enlist...with Airborne in the contract.

In the military we call this method: Getting 20. The civilian sector calls this synapses: War Junkie

Deer Hunter

2008-01-05T13:18:00.000-06:00

Everything has to be perfect with me. Well most thangs :). When I go out, which I do pretty frequently lately, I look at myself in the mirror and if I don't like the reflection that eyes me in the mirror I change the mirror and then after I pull another hanger off the rack, or unfold a new undershirt, I go back to the mirror and ask for forgiveness. Once I have reached it's blessing, I look at my pants and wonder about my shoes. Traditionally I'd wear some gym shoes, or if I brought along my Puma's I'd lace those for the night, but now that I live in my own apartment, I have the ability to purchase more and More stuff, so my supply of hangers keeps growing and the empty space on my closet floor keeps minimizing. As soon as I have the best fit on that I haven't already worn that week, I spray on my cologne, check the teeth one last time, and head out the door.

Most often once I get to the bar, I won't even talk to a girl, I will sit there and enjoy dressing up to keep people looking, to keep them interested in this tall dark skinned brotha, who looks fresh every time I see him. Occasionally a girl will come over and ask me for my name, and ask me what I do, and when I tell them I work on the Arsenal, the girl looks as if she's in love. But when I ask her what she does and she tells me she between jobs, I know she's looking for nothing, and what certifies it is when I ask her if she went to school, and she tells me she tried Black hawk. I almost turn around back to the bar, but being the kind guy I am I say, "Well hey it was nice meeting you (Nice meeting you too!), take care, bye," and I turn back to the bar, wondering if anyone saw me talking to the worthless girl behind me, still confused, as if I were suppose to start another conversation with her. My intellectual mind moves too fast, and if you TRIED a community college and you're 22-25...something is wrong.

So i wait for the woman to come along and tell me she has a degree from___, and doesn't have a job because she wants to be a stay at home mom. OR she works ____, with a degree in ____. See, I'm not a picky guy, I've just seen way too many guys (myself included), get locked into relationships that end up going nowhere. She, at my age, has to either have a degree, or is a year away from it, I am too mature for anything else. So I get dressed up, not to impress the women at the bar, but to have them ask me, so hey, what do you do? And after I feed them my resume, and show them what war looks like, and after my 25 second rambling is complete, I'll ask them the same.... I hope you see how it works.

Exceptions to my rule. If I see someone who is absolutely into The Ryan (that's my look), and she appears to be too shy and timid to approach me, I will un doubfully give her the eyes, even IF she's with her boyfriend, but never if she's engaged or married.

If she likes the eyes, then I will walk towards her, smiling as I get close and whisper, "Hey beautiful," just low enough to sweep across the back of her neck, filling both ears with the torment that she wasn't looking for coming out to the club. I will incredibly, keep walking some distance, minimizing the previous distance enough to question her integrity. If she bites her lip, she wants me. If she bats her eyes, she wants me. If she doesn't stare me down as I continue walking, she's content with where she's at in life, and didn't need me telling her how beautiful she was, because either she didn't care, or she already knew. 7 or 8 times out of 10 she will walk over and I will initiate, "Hey what's your name? ...Where did you go to school?"

I'm never interested in the girl. Traditionally I like hearing about their experiences. I haven't slept with a girl in quite some time, but my system works, I can guarantee that. My eyes are set on two or three girls, and all of them I can't have due to distance. I wish I lived closer to bigger cities....ummm, she is Delectable.

Insecurities

2007-12-20T03:26:00.001-06:00

Constantly I reflect on the things that I've done and question where I would be had I chosen the beaten path. All my life I've lived in an uphill battle with society and all things alike. I was born into this world with one leg smaller than the other and constantly find myself questioning what the onlooker thinks of me. I find myself wondering about things that shouldn't matter, like will she care that I limp, does it matter that I'm a Sergeant in the United States Army with a deficiency, will she not like me because of my difference, will this be the reason I won't marry, will my back always trouble me, will my knees ever forgive me? The one question I daily ask myself is, do they notice? I am constantly humiliated by my inner self, as I'm sure we all are. I bet Usher, Neil Armstrong, Michael Jordan, Tom Hanks, hell I bet even Zach himself even has something that they're insecure about, for me, my left leg has always been it. When it is noticed, and someone does ask, "Why___?" often times I say something witty to change the tone of the conversation, and then there are times where I will give the answer I give most doctors when they ask, "Did you know___?" (well of course I fucking knew it).

"Yes, I had a knee surgery when I was a junior in high school (17 years old), and they put four pins in my knee to try to even out the lag in my left leg." But what I really want to say when I get the question is the one above, "Hell yeah I fucking know my legs are different sizes, you think a kid going through elementary school doesn't realize the black kid on the playground runs different!" I mean seriously, that's how I knew, when I started getting picked on, but that didn't last long because I could hit, jump, throw, and kick, just as well as anyone, the only thing I needed practice with was running. I tried all the tricks you can think of, I stuffed my shoes with tissue, I wore ratio 2: 1 with socks, I've tried lifting, tried walking, I've tried it all, so now I'm comfortable knowing that what I have is mine, and it's what makes me unique, but that doesn't mean I'm still not insecure about it. Everyone is insecure about something, we usually try to hide it, but after being blown up, I can care less, the VA will cover a knee replacement and back surgery in 10 years....

I can't sleep

2007-12-18T00:19:00.000-06:00

The hardest thing for my to do lately is sleep, I daily find myself awake at 4:30am doing absolutely nothing. I'm not sure if it's because of my racing thoughts or if it's because of the one XS energy drinks that I drink throughout the day, something tells me that it's not the latter. Okay so we just recently got a router enabling our wireless Internet to work here at my loft and I have been on it pretty constantly, but last night I tried laying down at 1220 to go to bed, I did, and nothing happened. Last night, I found myself sweating as I tossed and turned, before I knew it, it was 6:35am and my alarm was buzzing. I even give myself a little soft music to listen to as I try to go to sleep, some sort of background noise, I've tried it quite, I've tried a boring movie, nothing seems to shake what I have inside of my head. Tonight, I produced the idea to drink a beer, a nightcap, so I went across the street and had a Bud light after Burger King, "Number 3; Double Whopper no Onion, King Size with a Coke/Sierra Mist mix." I even tried using my military heritage to get a discount; nothing. I constantly get light beer thinking it's best for me, fully aware that two months ago I couldn't finish a Whopper meal, now I'm eating two patty's, and finishing it all, and the fries, craving dessert.

This is my plea, I guess I really came close to asking for help today at work. I really want to see a shrink. I can't shake what's been holding me down. I even started taking the meds again. I remember in high school the popular girl taking Prozac to harness her depression. I remember sitting next to her in Sociology wondering if she was crazy or not, well I wonder what the person sitting next to me thinks about me. I wonder if my friends will always be by my side no matter what medications I have to take, or if they'll be there no matter what VA-hospital I spend my last years in. I wonder if they give me a padded room, I wonder who'll come talk to me....

I'll use initials as I said before I didn't want to give myself away...(consider second guessing the picture :)...) But, J.M. posts a blog on Myspace that I have elected to read daily. It inspires me to keep writing the truth about what soldiers go through both overseas and then after we return. I remember telling my guys before they got back, "Wait, two months after you're home, you'll want to go back," no one believed me, now they understand me. For good measure, I'll attempt to slumber early tonight.

Refection of the year 2007

2007-12-15T01:54:00.000-06:00

A questionaire everyone usually fills out...
So usually I have something important to say about "experience" or "Life lessons," I'm distraught, I'm tired of thinking, I just wish this Iraqi Conflict would end so that I can go home. Good news though, I got a heads up on when I might be coming home for good... Oct. 6, earlier than I thought. Sleep...

2007-2008
1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before? Survived War, considered suicide

2. Did you keep your New Years resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I haven't made a resolution in quite some time.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Tavares had a child
4. Did anyone close to you die? not that I can think of
5. What countries did you visit? Iraq, Kuwait, and Germany
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? More time at home with those who matter most.
7. What date from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? None like from 2006
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I'm still living despite an explosion that should have killed me.
9. What was your biggest failure? Life
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? My humvee was attacked in Iraq on 25 June and I suffered wounds that took me from battle.

11. What was the best thing you bought? I purchased mt Pontiac GTO
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Kenny and Derek, every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Kristen depresses me, the name in general.
14. Where did most of your money go? My car..car insurance
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Leaving Iraq, my 4th surgery, being home with friends

16. What song will always remind you of 2007? Hey there Dalilah, Tatted Up, Crank Dat

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) thinner or fatter? Def. Fatter… b) richer or poorer? Richer, I'm living and healthy!
18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Spent more time with my daughter
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Thinking about home, worring over Kristen
20. How will you be spending Christmas? I will be alone this year, and will not be going home because I have my 4th surgery on my hand planned next week, and therapy daily

21. What Xanga users did you meet for the first time? I stopped using Xanga
22. Did you fall in love in 2007? I've lived in love

23. How many one-night stands? I've grown up
24. What was your favorite TV program? Tila Tequila and anything Music videos
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? No I do not
26. What was the best book you read? I continued writing mine
27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Kaj Holgersson and his guitar
28. What did you want and get? MY LEGS, attaked in war, life, to see my daughter, my family, and my friends again.
29. What did you want and not get? My lover back
30. What was your favorite film of this year? 300, Stomp the Yard, yeeeaah Den
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 23 and Kenny, Kaj, Issac and I went to Aspen, CO and celebrated a homecoming from Iraq, together
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? My degree from college, full use of my hand, meeting my future wife...
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007? I wear my Army greens, and I gained weight..

34. What kept you sane? Thinking of home helped
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Will Smith
37. Who did you miss? Brook and Kristen… Jerod..The Majestic Fam.. Home
38. Who was the best new person you met? SGT Kristi Ericksom, SSG Kobel , and SSG Finsness lol

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007. Death is random

2006-2007

1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before? I really fell in love

2. Did you keep your New Years resolutions, and will you make more for next year? What are they? I stopped making resolutions a long time ago

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no

4. Did anyone close to you die? no

5. What countries did you visit? Germany, Kuwait, Iraq

6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006? To hold Kristen for longer than a month

7. What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Six Flags with Kristen

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Surviving Ft. Dix, still being alive in Iraq

9. What was your biggest failure? CCIW Conference Track

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? My back

11. What was the best thing you bought? A diamond for Kristen

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Bowi when he wrecked his bike in Sarasota

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Anna makes me depressed

14. Where did most of your money go? My car..car insurance

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Going to Iraq, Meeting Kristen, presenting the ring

16. What song will always remind you of 2006? Promiscuous girl and Lullaby

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) thinner or fatter? Def. Fatter… more muscular in parts b) richer or poorer? Richer… I gots da Bank!

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Reflection and planning for my future. Honestly I wish i would have seen Brook more

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Mirror time

20. How will you be spending Christmas? Hopefully at home with my beautiful girlfriend21. What Xanga users did you meet for the first time? I stopped using Xanga

22. Did you fall in love in 2006? ..Yes

23. How many one-night stands? Don’t recall….:)

24. What was your favorite TV program?

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? No I do not

26. What was the best book you read? O’brien has a few

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Incubus

28. What did you want and get? This deployment

29. What did you want and not get? Engaged!

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Waist Deep J

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 22… I sat at the battle position and waited for Ninjas to attack my site

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Having Kristen with me through most of it

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006? I’ma pimp, my fashion is at the top!34. What kept you sane? Thinking of home helps

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Will Smith

37. Who did you miss? Brook and Kristen… Jerod..The Majestic Fam.. Home

38. Who was the best new person you met? 3rd Platoon

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006. Never volunteer for shit! Let the other idiots do it!

2005-2006

2. Did you keep your New Years resolutions, and will you make more for next year? What are they? Like a little kid growing older, I stopped believing in Santa Clause..likely, I stopped believing in "New Years Resolutions."

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no4. Did anyone close to you die? No

5. What countries did you visit? nada

6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005? I'd like to find a better understanding for my future. I'd like to be deployed to a distant land, and I'd hope my parents and friends would understand Me..

7. What date from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? My birthday Nov. 25th...

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I think the biggest achievement was overcoming each day. The biggest one thing...by far was marching up Honor Hill at Ft. Benning, crying tears of joy when my two years of training ended with one final formation.

9. What was your biggest failure? I like to think that I've never failed at anything, but if there's something I'd do over again, it'd be with Sarah B... Or maybe my performance at Conference....

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I defiantly hurt my back this year during Javelin.

11. What was the best thing you bought? I just got speakers installed in my car, I'm getting Subs and an Amp later this month to complete my car...for now

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? I believe when Will, Was, and Jerrod came up for STIGMA, that was celebration enough for WWEEEEKS

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Sarah had a good response to this one... but it's not mine... I don't really know who has appalled me or made me depressed...there are a

14. Where did most of your money go? This house..my car..my debt to the military.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Stigma with my friends from home, Deployment, coming home from deployment to see my daughter..and Krista...Christmas with Marie...(SpOiLd), returning back to school, the thought of Law School, Special Forces Tryouts.

16. What song will always remind you of 2005? Taylor by Jack Johnson will always remind me of Kayla.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) thinner or fatter? I'm thinner this year, I've been forced to find my own food this year, and well the lack of money this summer created an eating dilemma. I've gained more weight do to working out more often. b) richer or poorer? honestly, I'm richer living off campus. I've been forced to pay my own bills so I was forced to find my own job. I make bank at best buy and I'm in the military too... uhh yeah!

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Reflection and planning for my future. Honestly I wish i would have seen Brook more

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Sex (even thought I don't do it that frequently...I'm still a condisuire of women's uterus')...well maybe just Marie's

20. How will you be spending Christmas? Broke, but the happiest dad in the world!

21. What Xanga users did you meet for the first time? I don't really do much stalking anymore, I've done more deleting then subscribing. I really don't like too many people...

22. Did you fall in love in 2005? ..yeah i did once.and..i'm still falling...just dunno about in love yet

23. How many one-night stands? Not that many in 2005...what exactly goes on during a one night stand?... maybe I've had a few weak...stands as in one week, but no, I dont think there was even one..one nighter When I got back from Georgia I was on this Absences Trip for about 7 or 8 months.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Didn't really have time for TV...Boondocks?

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Powerful word..hate is what happens to the weak when they can't resolve their problems!

26. What was the best book you read? Jarhead and Gates of Fire!

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Postal Service Jack Johnson.. taught me a lot

28. What did you want and get? I wanted to find love, but earlier in the year, i only got heartache.

29. What did you want and not get? Custody of my child.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Jarhead..but only because I saw it with Marie

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? IT was my 21st Birthday in November and it was on a Friday! Unfortunately I had to work at Best Buy from 4am-1pm (it was the day after thanksgiving and I work at Best Buy) I then went to Old Chicago to drink with Matt Nicol and his friends. His friends and I went to Daltons, I remember getting shots. I dont remember leaving. I gave my keys to someone (ie. dont drive on your birthday...) I then came home, and tried opening my door...remember, I didnt have my keys.... I then began walking to my car, thinking a locksmith would be waiting to open my car...it was like 3am...I walked damn near to the arsenal when I began shivering from the subzero weather (i had a polo on...only a polo...) I called Marie and she drove around rock island, looking for my drunk ass... (I didnt give the best directions). She finally found my snotty shivering, fucking belligerent ass, and she took me to her house, where I slept, and slept, and slept, until the next morning when we made a fort, and i kissed her.. for what i believe was the second time. The first being in her car, when I was snot-nosed-wasted. What a hell of a good impression....

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? not fuckin sure, I need more time to drink...

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005? not as high-maintain as previous years, but still... I rank higher than most...34. What kept you sane? music and college

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Well I've always wanted to marry a fuckin sexy ass mature, non-talking back, grown ass negra ass black chick. Tyra Banks would come before Missy Elliot

36. What political issue stirred you the most? Senator Obama.. i should have done that internship with him....

37. Who did you miss? I missed damn near everyone when I was deployed, I even missed the fuckin people I dislike at Augustana...

38. Who was the best new person you met? aww, come on now... let's not play that game! (I'm going to agree with Sarah on this one...)

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005. The juice better worth the squeeze....

I Came Home: Section title: Combat Stress

2007-12-09T14:37:00.000-06:00

Combat Stress
It started for me when Medina was hit by the rocket in Baghdad. Him and I, like I’ve said, did everything together. When I showered, he showered; when I ate, we ate together; when it was time to sleep, we slept; when he wanted to go to work out at the gym, or hang out at the MWR, or ride bikes, we did it all around the base. The only afternoon that we weren't together, was the afternoon that insurgents decided to send a rocket from 16,000 meters outside of Camp Victory, and hit my good friend in his foot with a piece of shrapnal, well that’s when I experienced my first sign of depression.

I showed all the signs of a suicidal person. My eating habits changed, I started to smoke, I was attempting to have liquor sent over to me. I didn’t care, I seriously began starving myself. I would show up late to work, and not care because I wanted to be kicked out of the Army. I thought that all that was good was now wrong; why couldn’t it have been me instead? For months I repeated this question, for months I starved myself for an answer, but it was never shown to me. I thought maybe there’s another way I’m suppose to go out, maybe there’s something more that I have to offer the world. Maybe it’s in a book, about my journeys in Iraq. For the longest time I wanted to end it all.

Kristen kept me strong until she told me the words that I would never forget. I have no idea why she told me when I was leaving Baghdad that she didn’t want to say those three simple words anymore. Maybe it was a joke; maybe she was drunk and wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t know, I wasn’t there, but she told me and I hurt. Three major events in my life happening right in front of me and there wasn’t a damn thing that I could do now about either of them. I loved hearing her voice, and I was excited each time I dialed her number, look at her pictures, and touched her delectable pictures.

It wasn’t until we arrived at Camp Bucca that I considered getting help. First it all started out as a practical joke. “I should probably see someone about this mood I’m in before I end it all; haha!” but it wasn’t long until that joke was broadcasted over the internal communications within our trucks by Brett Jacobson. It was the first time that my eyes saw red. I blacked out somewhere after I jumped out of my turret and off my truck, walking towards his still moving humvee. I was told that I yelled for him to get off his truck, but he wouldn’t. He said that I didn’t want to fight me. My anger was so strong that I woke up with bruises on my fists being dragged off his humvee. Medina told me I pulled him out of his turret and hit him a good five or eight times in his face before someone jumped up to stop me. My anger was prevalent and I wanted to stop what was had been happening for months before it got me into even more trouble than I had already caused myself.

I went to see the Behavioral Councilor on the last day in April. She told me that I had major signs of depression and that she was going to prescribe the same drugs that treat PTSD. She recommended that I take the drugs for a minimum of six months, and continue as long as I needed.

Before I would come home for my mid- tour leave I worried about coming home, or should I say, I worried about what I would come home to. Fredrick had just broken up with his girlfriend of about 2 years and had found himself a deployment girl from Ft. Bragg, NC. I myself questioned his integrity as he had broken up with her six nights after he fucked the Bragg girl. In the beginning I thought he would be one of the loyal boyfriends; that he’d stay true, but in the end it was me who was left standing. Before I would come home I would think often about what type of mindset my own girlfriend would have, and what her intentions would be upon my return. I wondered where the hell our relationship was heading, and when she would break up with me. I thought about the love we would make that first night back. I wondered what she would taste like, and if her lips were as sweet as when I left them. I questioned what life would be like with us together under one roof again.

It was one week out when we had my final Tallil run; the long haul into central Iraq. The last time I would see the children running into the road searching for something, something other than the oiled rain that stained the sand around their withered tents. It was the last time I would sit on the top of my turret in the fierce heat and pray that the ride would end at the next bridge; knowing that there were 26 bridges in all, and I was only at the second bridge. I actually really liked doing that run, I mean it got me in a situation to receive a Purple Heart, a CIB, and any other outstanding award that might be possible for a soldier, only I never actually took fire, nor did we make contact with any IED’s the entire time we were on route Tampa. But that didn’t bother me so much, what bothered me was thinking about coming home. I would have to deal with the stressors of overpasses in Illinois; terrible drivers, both the elderly and the young teenagers, I had the strongest feeling that I would tense up and wouldn’t be able to calm down from my anxiety. Before I went home I went to behavioral health so my attitude couldn’t and wouldn’t be seen by my friends and family, I couldn’t let them see what Iraq was really doing to me, I couldn’t let them see how “broken” I really was. Sure this is my first deployment, but 18 months away from home is a long time for a college student, fraternity boy, father, brother, sibling, kid, to be away from home, and I wasn’t sure that I wad ready to go, but the thought of a cold beer within my grasp was within anticipation. Drunk and stupid driving, a near miss on the interstate, driving my Dodge Stratus, seeing my little girl, making love, holding my mom, and playing in the yard with the most beautiful little girl my eyes have ever laid face on. But that week would only prove to be a week of devastation for all those around me, a week of devastation for those members of third squad.

It was a relatively quite week for me. No fights, no counseling’s, no strange dreams or nightmares. The commander spoke to the company explaining what our next mission would be, and we were told that we would actually have presence inside of the TIFF, that my squad and the remainder of the company would be pulled from ASO duties and placed inside of the TIFF for the remainder of our stay in Iraq. This news all came on Wednesday evening, immediately after we finished work for the day. Nothing could have made me feel more overwhelmed, overworked, and exhausted from the idea of another mission change, then hearing word that we would be going through yet one more mission change within 10 months of being in country. I slept well that night. I dreamt of stars and the midnight air brushing against my subdued brow, I felt a tiny grain of sand brushing against my face while facing the stars from within a tower, inside an insurgent compound.

My eyes opened sluggishly, fighting through the crusts of sleep still engraved within the corners of my eyes. I performed my routine. I threw on my ACU pants and tan t-shirt, walked sluggishly towards the bathrooms, where I brushed my teeth with Crest Whitening in a slow and deliberate fashion, making sure to hit every tooth with each blade from my brush. I lathered my face with Dove soap, making sure not to miss the razor blistered undercarriage of my jaw. When I reached for my Gillette Mach Three razor from within my bag, is when the first person entered the shower room to wash himself. Typically every morning Medina beats me to the showers before I can pull out my razor, but today would prove to be unlike any other day.
Little did I know that Jeffery, our translator, was gathering his smoking supplies around the same time I was leaving the bathroom. Little did I know that my final day on ASO would end with a bang, and that bang would rock more than just my world, and soon I would figure out what exactly my soul could take, and what it couldn’t stand to fathom.

We prepared like any other day, Medina and I gathered the ice blocks for the 4 gun trucks, we disbursed them evenly throughout. The guys would all meet at the connex so I could issue out their weapons, drivers would do their radio checks with the TOC and also on the squad frequency, gunners would mount and prep their machine guns for the test fires to follow. After all this, the four leaders of the vehicles would show up and relieve their soldiers so we, the troops could grab breakfast for ourselves, and their TC’s. As we grab the bacon and eggs, grits, fruit, and the two drinks that the chow hall set as a maximum per soldier, per meal, our interpreter, Jeffery would show up, and say to me, “Hey Mac,” with a tantalizing smile upon his face. His freakishly awkward grace would allow me my first smile, each morning he greeted me.

Jeffery rode in my truck the first part of the day. We cruised into the desert somewhere neat the Kuwaiti boarder when we stopped and Medina advised Jeffery to light up the Hooka. My squad leader at this point must have been full from the meal we offered him, his typical, bacon, bagel, and strawberry cream cheese, because he already had his hajji wrap draped around his face when the vehicle stopped, and I looked into the turret hole, watching as Jeffery began pouring fresh water into his hooka. We prepared to smoke apple tobacco on what was to be my final day behind a 50cal machine gun. Actually when he pulled out the Hooka, I closed the turret hatch and sat inside the truck so we could flashback month prior, obtaining the awesome feeling of smoking out the truck. Never did I expect to be called away from that sector and begin a sweep of Sioux Falls.

“Trebbi bro, you want a hit?” A dismal laughter came from my squad leader as I offered him the smoking pipe. I took in a hit worthy of any great pothead, and sat back, waiting for the feeling of smoking weed to kick back in…I sat back and listened as Slayer TOC called for Dragon 1-8. “Shit,” I say to Medina. Medina already tossing his headset back on,
“Slayer TOC, Dragon 1-8 over…”
“Dragon 1-8, sector sweep of Sioux Falls.”
“Roger, sector sweep Sioux Falls.” Jeffery had already had the hooka charcoal thrown outside the truck by the time Medina had replied to the TOC, He was now working on throwing out the water as I climbed my way back into the turret hole, signaling the other trucks to mount up, and get ready to roll.

The feeling of the wind hurling past my face standing tall in the turret is something that no convertible or T-Top will ever be able to portray. The only description that I can give today of how I felt when standing tall in the lead truck is of a dog, head dangling from one of the owner’s windows, tongue out, eyes clinching onto what I imagine is the dog’s favorite moment of living. My tail wagged past the IP checkpoint, through IED ally, just past the Safwan overpass, and circled Bridge 1.

My truck and the second truck swept all the way to Bridge 1. We raced up and down, back and forth all over the cloverleaf at the Safwan overpass; both trucks were speeding by the site that would later haunt me. On the third pass through the Safwan cloverleaf, Slayer TOC sent a radio transmission to Dragon 1-2 telling them that they would be relieving us in place. So we called the third and fourth trucks to come join us on top of the overpass. Within almost 20 minutes, the cloverleaf was passed on to the other Dragon element and we were well on our way to sectors 2, 4, and 6.

The feeling of a day almost complete, the air rushing past my face, in an almost attempt to blow through me instead of around me, choked the thoughts of peace and freedom, it plagued my moments of piece and safety and would deliver an idea of torment. I felt struggle of joy and happiness once we reached the Iraqi Checkpoint some 12-minutes after leaving the cloverleaf. And then the sirens sounded on my truck and the three trucks following mine. Almost simultaneously we began performing a U-turn in the desert. It was at that time that I was relieved from the imagination that I had been engulfed within. It was at that moment that my tail stopped wagging, and my tongue attempted to re-salivate to speak into my headset.
“What’s going on?” I question after forcing my headset over the top of my ACH, onto my ears, and pressing down to speak into the microphone. “There was an IED 100 meters past the cloverleaf,” Medina responded. “Is 1-2 alright?” Trebbi asked, tossing the wrap from his face, loading his weapons, and began preparing for a war to happen.
“Not sure, the TOC can’t get a hold of them; they’re not responding,” Medina explained.
“Let’s roll bro, I’m up, lets get there.”
At that time a transmission came over the internal frequency, “If you’re not first, you’re last; let’s roll 1-8!” Specialist Beam’s voice was sent into my headset from the truck behind mine quoting Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights.

We violently sped towards the cloverleaf wondering who was hit, and if in fact there had been an IED explosion. Did 1-2 get hit? Is there someone down? “Dragon 1-2 this is Dragon 1-8,” “Dragon 1-2, Dragon 1-8,” “Dragon 1-2 Dragon 1-2, Dragon 1-8…” nothing “Slayer TOC Slayer TOC, Dragon 1-8”
“Go ahead 1-8,” the TOC replied to my squad leader. “Roger Slayer TOC, we have no coms with 1-2 we will have eyes on in 3 mikes, how copy?”
“Roger 1-8 keep us informed.”
“Roger 1-8 Out.”

On shit, did they really get hit? Usually we have coms with the elements on top of the cloverleaf, I mean we don’t roll outside the wire with our electronic counter measures on, so our radios aren’t blocked out by the ECMs or warlocks. Typically anyone in the military would call this retarded, it’s very dangerous, and hell quite frankly Medina and I really didn’t care.
Before we would leave the wire for the day one of us would call the other’s name, “Hey Den….” And we knew what the other meant, and would reply “…Nope.”
“Shit, we better roll Den,” I tell Medina.
“They got hit,” Trebbi said. “Hey all 1-8 elements, just to give you a heads up, we’re headed to the cloverleaf to see about an IED with Dragon 1-2.”
“2 copies,” said Sgt. Swanberg.
“3 copies,” said Sgt. Dickerson.
“4 copies,” said Spc. Erickson.

In almost no time at all we were arriving towards the cloverleaf. Our truck had a turbo engine and was first to arrive on top of the overpass. Driving up I noticed cones in the road and wondered where their owners were. “There’s their cones; no trucks,” I say into my microphone, letting my truck know to keep their eyes open. “There they are,” Dragon 1-2 was off the road about 75-100 meters surrounding a vehicle that had obviously been blown up by something. The vehicle wasn’t there when we had left the overpass, “Turn here, turn right now….half left bro, half left,” Medina made a left hand turn and then performed a half right onto the sandy tracked road. “Trebbi immediately took off his head set telling us to make sure we tell Slayer TOC that we’ve made contact with 1-2 and let them know we’re going to need to cas-evac out the wounded. Medina follows Trebbi out of the truck.
“Truck 2, we’re going to need Doc down here immediately.”
“Where the hell are you guys,” Swanberg spoke into the mic asking for our location to drop off Spc. Fredrich, our squad medic.
“Turn left right now,” I tell them as they barrel over the side of the road running into the curb and ending up some 20 meters from my location.
“Slayer TOC, Dragon 1-8.”
“1-8 Slayer TOC.”
“Roger Slayer TOC, we have one British PSD vehicle hit by what appears to be an IED/EFP on the TC side, BREAK… We have casualties and require a cas-evac of the personnel.”
“1-8, Slayer TOC, are the wounded US troops, if so how many? BREAK…have you made contact with Dragon 1-2?”
“Slayer TOC, 1-8, we have made contact with Dragon 1-2, wait-one as we find out about the casualties…”
“Trebbi!” I scream out of the turret to my squad leader, “US troops or no?” He tells me that the casualties are British PSD personal, we have 2 KIA, and 2 wounded who require immediate cas-evac back to Bucca. “Slayer TOC, 1-8”
“Go ahead 1-8.”

“Roger, we have 2 KIA and 2 injured British PSD personal on the scene, there are no injured US troops, BREAK. Dragon 1-2 is loading up the wounded personal at this time, BREAK on scene we have Dragon 1-2, Dragon 1-8, BREAK, 2 Patriot elements (Camp Navistar security humvees), British troops, and the PSD personal, how copy over?” I think it was at this moment when I looked up towards the exploded vehicle when I saw one foot sitting on the hood of the SUV, and noticed that there weren’t any legs to go along with the lower extremities. I searched everywhere for something that I could attempt to call legs, but there were none. I saw only the one foot and a torso hanging from the vehicle. There appeared to be a tourniquet attached to the upper thigh of the man lying motionless. I then glanced to the group of soldiers huddled around one man lying on the sanded tracked road, and saw someone rushing from the group towards the humvee. The soldier rushing towards the humvee had blood on his ACU pants and grabbed the litter from the back of his truck, and proceeded to rush back to the exploded vehicle. It didn’t take any longer than five minutes for the man to be hoisted onto the litter and placed inside the humvee; no legs and all. Dragon 1-2’s medic was performing aid on the patient and looked to be doing a really good job.
“Dragon 1-3, Slayer TOC…”
“Roger Slayer TOC.”
“We need you in route to the cloverleaf at this time to assist 1-8.”
“Slayer TOC, 1-8,” I say into my microphone.
“Go ahead 1-8.”
“Roger, Actual relays that Dragon 1-2 is cas-evacing an urgent surgical from the scene, time now BREAK, we have set up an inner cordon to the scene, when 1-3 arrives, could you have them set up an outer cordon and direct traffic away from the blast area?”

“Roger 1-8, BREAK, Dragon 1-3--Dragon 1-3, Slayer TOC, did you copy last?”
“Roger Slayer TOC 1-3 copies, secure an outer cordon for 1-8.” Somewhere between me talking to Slayer TOC and Dragon 1-3’s transmission with the TOC, Trebbi hands me his video camcorder and tells me to record some footage. I stare back into his eyes with an empty stare. Not really knowing if I had the guts to record what my eyes were witnessing. How could I record these people’s lives, in what way could I do this and make it seem like the right thing to do? I reached down from my turret and took into my hands the camera. My eyes were fixed upon the electronic thing in my grasp, I glanced up at the exploded SUV towards the driver’s side, there was a woman pounding on a body, attempting to bring the lifeless being back from the depths of nothingness, in hopes to somehow revive him. I turn the camcorder on and began filming what my heart told me not to. ‘It has to be for Slayer TOC,’ I tell myself.
“Damn man I can’t do this,” I say as the camera is still in motion, still filming, “I can’t record these people, it’s not right…I can’t do this.”
Thankfully for me Dragon 1-3 was calling over the radio, “Dragon 1-8, Dragon 1-3.”
“1-3 this is 1-8 over,”
“Roger, where would you like us?”
“Trebbi!” “Roger 1-3, we need you to set up a cordon on the road, the impact area is about 150meters from your lead time now BREAK, if you could have two trucks on both sides of the roads, we’re going to try to cas-evac out the wounded and KIA together, how copy over?”
“Roger 1-8 we’re sending 2 to the far end, two on the front end of the cloverleaf.”
“Roger 1-3 that’s a good copy BREAK, could you direct traffic away from the scene, we’ll be cas-evacing out two urgent surgical, 10 mikes, how copy?”
“Roger 1-8, good copy.”
“Trebbi!” I scream towards my squad leader, 1-3 is going to set up the outer cordon, Slayer TOC wants to know how long it’s going to take to cas-evac out the wounded.”
“Tell them we’re still securing the scene and that we’ll be in route in 20 mikes, tell them we’ll keep them informed.” I relay the message to the TOC, pretty much telling them to hold the gate open for our trucks and to have medical personal on scene at the gate. I had powered down Trebbi’s camcorder and felt for my Canon SD 500 and I snapped off a few pictures of the scene. The pictures were so live, so real, so inhumane that I could only take two pictures of the woman pounding on what appeared to be either her husband or a really close relative. I was engulfed with a state of humility, it’s like being in a position to make four thousand dollars a week; you walk into the grocery store and you don’t have enough money to pay for a simple candy bar for your child. Similarly the feeling rings in when you see a victim of rape in an ally, but you bypass it. In the comforts of your own home you turn on the television and see on the headlines: Woman Slain, and the description is of an ally by your house, and you know you could have prevented it, but you didn’t.

I can’t describe the feelings of home without saying first that I missed it more than anything cas-evacing the man with no legs from the accident scene. I’m sure for him he had mixed emotions about life. I can’t and won’t try to solve the mystery inside of his head, I own him more gratitude than that. I do know that his screams will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. His subtle scamper will plague my dreams no matter how much medication I take to relax myself, no matter how many pills that I take to try to forget, chances are, I most likely will never forget. As I said previously, most war stories aren’t true, but believe me when I tell you, this story is honest, and this one did happen, we’re tribute to the events that day.

Since that Wednesday, May 9, 2007, I’ve had troubles sleeping, and have bad anxiety. I fear being in confined space. I have to have a good elbow space between me and any object, including my girlfriend. I’m not sure why things happened this way for me, I’m not even sure if my squad mates feel any of the displacement that I do, but this disarticulation isn’t helping me raise my little girl. The photos and the video recording that I did that day will forever be imbedded into memory, even without looking at the disarrangement of the human anatomy, for this, this book was written, for this I own everything. I will forever pay tribute to my tour in Iraq. I will forever be thankful for the experiences that I have gained on this deployment and my inclination to tell my story, and the stories of my soldiers to let not only Americans, but also the world know what this War on Terror is doing to some of the finest boys our countries have to offer. It is for this that I’ll continue to sing this song, and won’t end until it has reached not the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people, but the hearts and minds of our legislation, the ones who are in charge of continuing this war, the heads of the States, and the mothers who have lost loved ones back home. I will continue to sing our song until we have been heard….

I would come home that following week, but not before my leave convoy would be hit with three EFPs killing none, wounding none. We were lucky that day to be in our up armor humvees, instead of British PSD vehicles. I would finish writing this story on the plane ride back to the states, some 40 minutes from touching down in Atlanta International. I was fortunate to come home and kiss my daughter, mother, sisters, and my girlfriend for at least one more time.

I Came Home: section title: Even The best war stories

2007-12-09T14:35:00.000-06:00

Even The best war stories

Even the best war stories never make sense. They’re stories that either happened or didn’t happen and the only person that knows if it truly happened is the original storyteller. See a good war story is told over and over again, the more times it gets told the better chance that the story becomes more alive than the first time it was told. In a true war story the creator never corrects his grammar; he doesn’t try to sensor the words to gear it towards a particular group. There is no genre or certain type of setting. The setting is whatever the listener creates in his or her mind. The storyteller’s primary focus is keeping the reader or listener’s focus, and just when the story becomes almost unreal, that’s when the story lives-on throughout the new storyteller.

I told the story of how Medina killed a six year old boy. I spelled it out in a poem, and never intended on telling anyone the real events until now. It was on a convoy going through the Anbar Providence, just west of Baghdad, Iraq. We were escorting a couple KBR trucks into Ramadhi when we entered what Trebbi called a friendly town. There were kids running all over the place, some kicking soccer balls, some waving signs of peace and giving us all hope for what was to become of the mission. The kids were so young, but they were giving us feelings of what was to become of the world as we lifted our hearts and passed through the middle of town. Gilmore looked back at my truck and signaled a left turn coming up. I verified his gesture with a heads up. It was our routine to nod at each other before clearing rooms back at Fort Dix. He would always go in first and I would follow up tight on his ass. We organized ourselves in a similar fashion when we were given the 1151’s. I gave Haro a hand wave pointing the way, he replied with a thumb up and Gilmore’s 50 Cal. turned down the new road. My turret swung and my 50 Cal went long on the road, taking up Gilmore’s old sector. Before I could swing my turret as Gilmore had done just moments before, and Haro could take our previous sectors, the first truck had taken an RPG attack. I began firing upon the apartment complex where the RPG had come from and an EFP hit Gilmore’s truck. The kids were running by now, I saw the soccer balls moving toward empty goals and the streets were all clear of Iraqis. I fired and didn’t stop into the apartment window that the RPG had come from. My ears felt as if I were ridding on a cloud of clashing thunder. I felt like I was swimming in the worst hurricane storm, I felt as if I was in the eye of the tornado, as the dust cloud now filled my truck. We came to a halt and I didn’t know what was happening until the smoke cleared.

Gilmore was lodged from his turret and thrown some 25 meters away from the gun truck. Instantly Medina jumped out of my truck M4 in hand and ran to Gilmore’s position. He threw him over his shoulder and began running back to our truck. Out of no where shots ring out behind me and Medina screams back with a rapid burst from his M4. I turned around just in time to see the little boy standing puzzled, not yet realizing what the hell had happened. His puzzled look was one of a boy who had just lost in the final round of Super Mario Brothers; with no lives to give. The smoke still remains years after that day. We were never the same. Trebbi jumped out of the first truck sustaining minor injuries. Olivares had a concussion and was bleeding from his lower left leg. We blew the 1151 in place, called for a hazmath crew to come wreck the humvee after we medi-vac-ed our wounded out of the AO. Nothing would ever be the same after that third mission outside the wire. For us, our deployment wasn’t even half way through, and we would have more injuries, but none were like those that day.

The truth about a war story could be that there really was no war. The person telling the story could never have been deployed to an overseas location. The reader could fall into the trap of believing everything that the storyteller has to say because there was an actual war happening at the time, and the events seem almost believable because they knew a friend who had a friend who was deployed over there, and the events sounded real. Truth is, even if I have been deployed to Iraq, I still could be lying to you about what it is I saw, I could speak about the gore because I too was once suckered into believing a story. Much of my story is true, with the exception of the names for the fear of one day being sued for baring false evidence, or humiliating someone’s life. Humility is something that I have always preached for within my squad, and the level that I received back from my squad leader was to the level of a retarded baby seal. A student of Liberal Arts, and I’m still being treated like I’m a rediline bound adolescent, but that’s alright, I told myself that I would let those who read this know exactly the kind of guy he was; you got yours coming Staff-Sergeant! And that’s a true story.

I Came Home section title:Mini-Victories

2007-12-09T13:41:00.000-06:00

Mini-Victories
“You know it’s like a mini-victory when you have a day off. You guys don’t see how it is on the night shift because you’re not around it.”
“It’s like a what?”
Eying my squad I glance over at Medina who’s frantically attempting to hide a laugh. “A mini-victory?” he asks.
On a rainy day in December walking to the chow hall I told Medina that I had found a few things that I could enjoy throughout my day, things that keep my moral somewhat lifted, things that I could write about one day, and laugh looking back on how stupid it all was. “The sludge bro, the sludge is a mini-victory.”
“Sludge?”
“Yea, the way the mud feels underneath my boots. It’s like a [Splash] mini-[Slush] victory. I love playing in it like I used to do puddles back when I was a kid.”
“Sludge huh [Squish]?”
“You know, another one is Jello. See whenever I’m eating Jello I’m not at work, I’m actually in the chow hall, so there’s another mini-victory.”
“Sludge and Jello, yeah alright bro, that’s pretty fuckin’ weird.” But you could tell that after he commented that he was thinking about his own bits of happiness; the things that give him his sanity throughout the day. And even if he had thought about his own, realized them, I never actually expected that he would tell me he had found his mini-victories, even if he wanted to talk about it, something held him back from being even slightly intimate with me. So when he held back the laugh as I told my squad leader that not being around him was a mini-victory, that I no longer wanted to be in his squad, that I had enough; Medina knew I was serious because Medina knew the severity of one of my mini-victories.

I didn’t even address Trebbi like he was a person when I spoke to him. I had lost most of the respect for him. Looking back at Fort Dix, I’m reminded of the countless times we were in the front leaning rest position. I remember being late on the account of him and then being bitched at later for me being late, when it was actually his fault we weren’t on time. I remember flutter kicks in the rain, and dumping out the tents in search for, anything; the guy called them health and welfare inspections. And after it would get dark or right when it started to rain, that’s when we would pick up our gear from outside the tents and begin to move it all back inside.

Reliving Tradition

2007-12-08T22:34:00.000-06:00

I grew up writing in a journal. I remember my first diary-x.com and Xanga, when I compared a journal and a diary..I think I called mine a journal because women and very feminine men generally call their log a diary. I would write about anything that was interesting to me. I remember writing about why I enjoyed the military, why exactly I wanted to join, and today looking back I realize how much of an adolescent I really was. I decided upon the Army because of the great war movies of Vietnam, the World Wars, the Cold War, and well, movies during time of piece like STRIPES. I enlisted into the Army for a number of reasons, two of the most retarded reasons were for other people, people who considered the military briefly, but laughed at the slight interest that tempted them. I wanted to lead troops into combat and be slain by the enemies of the United States, but I had no idea how difficult it would be for me.

See my left leg is about an inch and a half shorter than my right leg, throwing everything generally off balance. I walk with a limp, I run practically broken, and my hips hurt standing still. I was scared stupid at the thought of losing out on becoming an infantryman, so I told my recruiter I wanted to stand next to the big and the bold. I wanted to wear a cord that I knew not the significance of. I wanted to display the cross rifles of honorable men. I was in pursuit of the lineage of the Infantryman.

On my sister's birthday in April 2006, I was required to write a short story for Nick Dybek's Writing Fiction II course. Naturally I wrote about a significant happening in my life, or at least how it plays out time after time in my head:

"Four by eleven they tap against the pavement, arms swaying, well-shaven, pressed-uniforms to match. God created the sky for them, their blood makes the green grass grow, their spirit lives on in a bayonet. They’re all in a fraternity of husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers, the youngest just turned seventeen three weeks ago. Left right left, they tap the beat, as their arms sway gracefully. Mothers drive by with Illinois, Iowa, and Indiana’s Hoosier Veteran license plates. They can’t see their faces, but they feel the ‘honoring stares.’ “Column right, March,” is bellowed by the man with the brown crisp mounting hat. The men simultaneously perform a column right with a forward step, they pivot on their right foot, as each man reached the front mans pivot point and they pivot as well, until the entire eleven columns have pivoted. The brown hat sputters out a song and the men echo the words after each break.

I used to wear my faded jeans. Now I sport my Army greens,
And it won’t be long, till I (Hey), Till I (Hey), Till I get on back home.
I used to drive a Cadillac. With All my homies in the back.
And it won’t be long, till I (Hey), Till I (Hey), Till I get on back home.
I used to have a place to life. Till momma kicked you out her crib.
And it won’t be long, till I (Hey), Till I (Hey), Till I get on back home.
I used to date a beauty queen. Now I love my M-16.
They say it won’t be long, till I (Hey), Till I (Hey), Till I get on back home.
Back Home back home. Back home’s where I belong.
And it won’t be long, till I (Hey), Till I (Hey), Till I get on back home.

Solidity stood on their faces as they bellow the meaning for their existence. This solid block, this solid unit, this band of brothers, arms swaying, nine [inches] to the front, and six to the rear, knew more about life than I’d ever known. With no emotion on their face, what seemed to be rain fell upon many of their cheeks, but there were no clouds, there were no drops on the windshield, it was just Hot. It was hotter than the time Dad beat me for stealing the gold watch from JcPennys. Hotter than the time in Palm Springs, when I almost pulled the trigger on my girlfriend’s life when I caught her in the room with the bellboy who had carried our bags up two flights of stars, and then wanted a tip from me. It was hot.

Dad saluted the man in the brown hat, from his passenger seat. A tear dropped from moms eye, it fell hard against her forearm, extended at the steering wheel. The man’s eyes caught my fathers and he offered back the same gentle gesture. The man’s eyes looked back at mine, and I looked down. I didn’t look down because I was scared; I looked down because I realized then, how much of a little boy I had become. I looked down and pressed play again on my Game boy for the last time, something told me the same pain would fall upon my cheek.

“Did you know that man dad?”“No, but I have a feeling that yours will be quite like him.” Dad’s brown weathered hand extended toward moms; her grace rejected him and the car continued into Sand Hill, at Ft. Benning, Georgia, towards the big red, white, and blue. "

To God's Beloved Infantry Women:

When I go to the wishing creek

right next to the running river

I remember I caught you there.

You were standing still watching and waiting

to be understood.

Remember the sunset the day I proposed?

Remember my fearful face removing the box?

Remember the pattern, red. white. blue?

Metaphors for our love.

The sun now settling,

the river calming,

all waiting wishing us to be true.

Love you I'll always do.

The Return

2007-08-18T08:29:00.000-05:00

So even before I enlisted I had the feeling that I would make a pretty good soldier. Something in my heart made me want to live the life I had witnessed my entire adolescent years. My deepest emotion had always been embedded in living the military life, and for some reason unknown to me yet, I would amaze myself and show off my talents as a leader, but unfortunately I was never put into that role in Iraq, not directly anyway. The worst part about being in Iraq for me wasn't even being in Iraq, it was coming home from that hell-hole. It's your parents, your friends, the strangers you meet everywhere who recognize your haircut; see the tattoos, see an injury and ask you what happened. The worst part about coming home by far are the questions, "So how was/is it?" The psychological battle is what I can honestly say is the worst obstacle for soldiers returning home. When you're home, that's it, all you want is to forget whatever trauma you witnessed, whatever noises that plagued you, people really don't care, or at least that's the majority sentiment. I had a pretty good talk with Marie's friend Zach about it all today, and he affirmed my belief and some. Zach said that he's six months home and he's still having trouble couping with the prangs of returning home, so imagine what it's like for soldiers who rapidly deploy for six months to a year....more to come.

Leaving it all behind

2007-07-20T15:35:00.000-05:00

I really told myself that I would utilize this blog to vent, well after leaving Baghdad I was issued even less time to apply myself online. Sure I could have called a lot more often, like Medina would do his girlfriend now wife, but honestly thinking about home deeply upset me.

Well all, my relationship ended just shy of me coming home, the reasoning I would rather let fall from my life forever, because one mans loss is an even better womans gain, and I think you get my meaning!

Imagine going to war, making amazing friends during the process, and then being hit by a roadside bomb so powerful most often it rips right through an up armored humvee sending the contents straight to their maker. For my crew and I, we were amazingly fortunate to survive.

I'm not going to lie about any of what I have to say next because there are about 14 or so guys who could read this and say, nah Ry, it didn't go down like that. I was in the turret in the scout vehicle when I felt a warm splash slash across my face, I blinked and that was it. The next thing I knew, I was telling SSGT Tilman that I was alright. It didn't take me long to realize that I couldn't handle the pain, or the loss of blood.

The truck stopped some 800meters down the road and that's when I started telling the guys that I needed Doc., my squads medic. When the guys finally pulled me from the uparmoured humvee, I was bleeding, slightly out of it, and without both of my expensive ass oakley shades! It took my humvee being on fire, Medina recording how rediculus I actually looked as I cried, yes cried, there on the side of the road just south of Talill Airbase. I was in what I can honestly say was the worst pain of my life and things weren't looking up for me. One second the wind is blowing in my face on a blazingly fierce day in Iraq, and a second later, everyone is screaming just trying to make me go into pure shock.

I was huffing inside Gilmore's humvee when I heard the safetest sound that ever could have been, and when the boys lifted me off the ground in the ragged litter that we were questioning bringing along just one day prior, my heart filled with joy, and it was at some point then that I realized I was leaving my boys, I was leaving my brothers, both young and older, and I knew I wasn't ready for that until Swanberg grabbed my leg and said "Shake n' Bake!" and after that the Black Hawk helicopter was inflight to save what was left inside my hand.

A questionaire everyone usually fills out...

2007-02-12T19:14:00.000-06:00

So usually I have something important to say about "experience" or "Life lessons," I'm distraught, I'm tired of thinking, I just wish this Iraqi Conflict would end so that I can go home. Good news though, I got a heads up on when I might be coming home for good... Oct. 6, earlier than I thought. Sleep...

2006-2007

1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before? I really fell in love
2. Did you keep your New Years resolutions, and will you make more for next year? What are they? I stopped making resolutions a long time ago
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no
4. Did anyone close to you die? no
5. What countries did you visit? Germany, Kuwait, Iraq6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006? To hold Kristen for longer than a month
7. What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Six Flags with Kristen
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Surviving Ft. Dix, still being alive in Iraq
9. What was your biggest failure? CCIW Conference Track
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? My back
11. What was the best thing you bought? A diamond for Kristen
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Bowi when he wrecked his bike in Sarasota13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Anna makes me depressed14. Where did most of your money go? My car..car insurance15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Going to Iraq, Meeting Kristen, presenting the ring16. What song will always remind you of 2006? Promiscuous girl and Lullaby17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) thinner or fatter? Def. Fatter… more muscular in parts b) richer or poorer? Richer… I gots da Bank!18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Reflection and planning for my future. Honestly I wish i would have seen Brook more
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Mirror time
20. How will you be spending Christmas? Hopefully at home with my beautiful girlfriend
21. What Xanga users did you meet for the first time? I stopped using Xanga
22. Did you fall in love in 2006? ..Yes
23. How many one-night stands? Don’t recall….:)
24. What was your favorite TV program?
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? No I do not
26. What was the best book you read? O’brien has a few
27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Incubus
28. What did you want and get? This deployment29. What did you want and not get? Engaged!
30. What was your favorite film of this year? Waist Deep J
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
22… I sat at the battle position and waited for Ninjas to attack my site
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Having Kristen with me through most of it
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006? I’ma pimp, my fashion is at the top!
34. What kept you sane? Thinking of home helps
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Will Smith
37. Who did you miss? Brook and Kristen… Jerod..The Majestic Fam.. Home
38. Who was the best new person you met? 3rd Platoon
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006. Never volunteer for shit! Let the other idiots do it!

2005-2006

1. What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before? Went to Navy Pier, Was Deployed...Went to New Orleans, Cried tears of joy when I completed my training at Ft. Benning, spent Thanksgiving alone....
2. Did you keep your New Years resolutions, and will you make more for next year? What are they? Like a little kid growing older, I stopped believing in Santa Clause..likely, I stopped believing in "New Years Resolutions."
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no
4. Did anyone close to you die? no
5. What countries did you visit? nada
6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005? I'd like to find a better understanding for my future. I'd like to be deployed to a distant land, and I'd hope my parents and friends would understand Me..
7. What date from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? My birthday Nov. 25th...
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I think the biggest achievement was overcoming each day. The biggest one thing...by far was marching up Honor Hill at Ft. Benning, crying tears of joy when my two years of training ended with one final formation.
9. What was your biggest failure? I like to think that I've never failed at anything, but if there's something I'd do over again, it'd be with Sarah B... Or maybe my performance at Conference....
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I defiantly hurt my back this year during Javelin.
11. What was the best thing you bought? I just got speakers installed in my car, I'm getting Subs and an Amp later this month to complete my car...for now
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? I believe when Will, Was, and Jerrod came up for STIGMA, that was celebration enough for WWEEEEKS
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Sarah had a good response to this one... but it's not mine... I don't really know who has appalled me or made me depressed...there are a few girls...one starts with a K and ends with rista, one starts with an A and ends with lexandra.
14. Where did most of your money go? This house..my car..my debt to the military.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Stigma with my friends from home, Deployment, coming home from deployment to see my daughter..and Krista...Christmas with Marie...(SpOiLd), returning back to school, the thought of Law School, Special Forces Tryouts.
16. What song will always remind you of 2005? Taylor by Jack Johnson will always remind me of Kayla.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) thinner or fatter? I'm thinner this year, I've been forced to find my own food this year, and well the lack of money this summer created an eating dilemma. I've gained more weight do to working out more often. b) richer or poorer? honestly, I'm richer living off campus. I've been forced to pay my own bills so I was forced to find my own job. I make bank at best buy and I'm in the military too... uhh yeah!
18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Reflection and planning for my future. Honestly I wish i would have seen Brook more
19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Sex (even thought I don't do it that frequently...I'm still a condisuire of women's uterus')...well maybe just Marie's
20. How will you be spending Christmas? Broke, but the happiest dad in the world!
21. What Xanga users did you meet for the first time? I don't really do much stalking anymore, I've done more deleting then subscribing. I really don't like too many people...
22. Did you fall in love in 2005? ..yeah i did once.and..i'm still falling...just dunno about in love yet
23. How many one-night stands? Not that many in 2005...what exactly goes on during a one night stand?... maybe I've had a few weak...stands as in one week, but no, I dont think there was even one..one nighter When I got back from Georgia I was on this Absences Trip for about 7 or 8 months.
24. What was your favorite TV program? Didn't really have time for TV...Boondocks?
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Powerful word..hate is what happens to the weak when they can't resolve their problems!
26. What was the best book you read? Jarhead and Gates of Fire!
27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Postal Service Jack Johnson.. taught me a lot
28. What did you want and get? I wanted to find love, but earlier in the year, i only got heartache.
29. What did you want and not get? Custody of my child.
30. What was your favorite film of this year? Jarhead..but only because I saw it with Marie
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? IT was my 21st Birthday in November and it was on a Friday! Unfortunately I had to work at Best Buy from 4am-1pm (it was the day after thanksgiving and I work at Best Buy) I then went to Old Chicago to drink with Matt Nicol and his friends. His friends and I went to Daltons, I remember getting shots. I dont remember leaving. I gave my keys to someone (ie. dont drive on your birthday...) I then came home, and tried opening my door...remember, I didnt have my keys.... I then began walking to my car, thinking a locksmith would be waiting to open my car...it was like 3am...I walked damn near to the arsenal when I began shivering from the subzero weather (i had a polo on...only a polo...) I called Marie and she drove around rock island, looking for my drunk ass... (I didnt give the best directions). She finally found my snotty shivering, fucking belligerent ass, and she took me to her house, where I slept, and slept, and slept, until the next morning when we made a fort, and i kissed her.. for what i believe was the second time. The first being in her car, when I was snot-nosed-wasted. What a hell of a good impression....
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? not fuckin sure, I need more time to drink...
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005? not as high-maintain as previous years, but still... I rank higher than most...
34. What kept you sane? music and college
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Well I've always wanted to marry a fuckin sexy ass mature, non-talking back, grown ass negra ass black chick. Tyra Banks would come before Missy Elliot
36. What political issue stirred you the most? Senator Obama.. i should have done that internship with him....
37. Who did you miss? I missed damn near everyone when I was deployed, I even missed the fuckin people I dislike at Augustana...
38. Who was the best new person you met? aww, come on now... let's not play that game! (I'm going to agree with Sarah on this one...)
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005. The juice better worth the squeeze....

Home of the Brave

2007-01-20T13:18:00.000-06:00

Home of the Brave. I watched it the other night in my trailer thinking to myself about what it really means to be brave. Is it doing your job and coming home, because if so we're all a little brave. Brave, is it doing something that no one else wants to do, because if it is then are those who don't want to do it cowards? Because there sure are a lot of cowards. Brave, could it be something that no one chooses to talk about because we're all a little brave in an opsimistic sort of way. In any sense, I very seldom get that feeling in this movie. The idea behind it is rather important, but the way it's brought about is wrong.

The concept is this: There are Four Soldiers who all located in Iraq, they go out and do a supply run mission, to raise the moral of the Iraqi people (good concept), their truck gets ambushed and several troops die, a few run off and pretty much leave the other soldieirs behind (bad). So anyway, the troops are all redeploying back home, and individually have a hard time dealing with the stress (PTSD is a serious condition). The troops either kill themselves, or attempt to kill themselves. One, a Major, drinks and pretty much tries shooting himself after embarrising himself in front of his family. 50 cent's girlfriend dumps him and he doesn't understand why, so he holds her hostage (Bad, bad, bad). It was a really depressing movie for me, I really didn't like it and felt a little hurt after watching it. I really hope I don't have stress like this upon my arrival back stateside. If I'm going to get dumped, hopefully it'll happen before I get home; God willing, I won't get dumped. If my parents aren't going to be understanding, hopefully they won't show it to my face, within the first two years. Hopefully people won't look at me differently, hopefully I'll be the same Ryan as I was when I left, hell, no one calls me Ryan here, it's always Mac, and I'm glad for that, a complete seperation of personalities, Mac and Ryan.

Ryan's a good guy, he's a writer, a lover, a student, and a best friend to many. Mac, well, Mac's a trained killer, either full-time, or part-time. Mac, is a Specialist. Mac's some guy that the military made up in order to cope. Mac has three years left in the service before it's all over.

My resolution

2007-01-02T00:30:00.000-06:00

He's dead. Gone.
I no longer have to stay restless.
I drowned the otherday in the shower thinking of home.
I'm blinded by those infront of me, and worry about my own safety.
What time will it be when i get back on track?
What day should I stop worrying about not being afraid of the dark.
Santa Clause is real, his sleigh is coming soon.
Shut your eyes, we'll both be alive soon.
No, really alive.

Christmas Eve 2006

2006-12-23T16:04:00.000-06:00

I'm so tired. I wake up and I want to go back to sleep. I roll over, hit the snooze on my phone and decided that I should go back to sleep, that it's a good thing to lay for an extra 5 more minutes. It sounds off again, and I'm forced to get out of bed. I tip toe to the light switch, attempting not to wake my neighbor, but I try not to have my entire foot hit the floor; mother fucking room is cold! I get dressed, grab my bike, and run out the door. Sometimes if I'm lucky I'll wake up early and I'll go to the MWR tent and I'll get on AIM to say hi to my girlfriend. I work 8-8. I get off work and I'm blinded by daylight. It's about 11:00 back at home, so I decide to call my girlfriend, occasionally, depending on what I have to do. If there's shit I gotta do at work, I do it (common sense), if not, usually I go to sleep. I sleep on a cot for a good portion of the week. When I don't have to stay here I sleep on a mattress, it's not bad, but it could be a lot better. I'm pretty sure that when I'm actually home from all of this I'll look back on my experiences here and I'll tell myself it wasn't so bad, but it was, and it is.

How do I tell this story? Who will want to listen? Will anyone even pick up the book after it's published?

Stuck on this Isthmus of a Middle State

2006-12-02T05:51:00.001-06:00

All it takes is on phrase, one sentence, one offering, and there begins a poem. That's what I'm good at, the beginning. See I was always good at starting things, I'd open a savings account and put a few bucks into it. Then I'd open a checking account and start investing there. I'd get hired and would never quit, just leave the possability of regaining my position open. If there's one thing I never want to quit, it's my relationship, my love for K10. She's the greatest person I know; seriously. She has everything caked into one beautiful, sexy, amazingly brilliant mind. I wanna hold her right now, sqeeze her, and never let her go, but I'm plagued by the military. Plagued by my endless state. I'm on an isthmus and I can't get the hell off. Damn it for beginnings....

2006-12-02T05:51:00.000-06:00

All it takes is on phrase, one sentence, one offering and there begins a poem. That's what I'm good at, the beginning. See I was always good at starting things, I'd open a savings account and put a few bucks into it. Then I'd open a checking account and start investing there. I'd get hired and would never quit, just leave the possability of regaining my position open. If there's one thing I never want to quit, it's my relationship and my love for K10. She's the greatest person I know, seriously. She's got everything caked into one beautiful, sexy, amazingly brilliant body. I wanna hold her right now and sqeeze her, never letting her go, but i'm plagued by the military. Plagued by my endless state. I'm on an isthmus and I can't get the hell off. Damn it for beginnings....

A letter to my editor

2006-11-07T13:58:00.000-06:00

Hey reader-

I'm writing from Baghdaddy to say hello! It seems like I've missed out on so much already, and it's only fall term. I hope all is well around the office; I'm sure things are going just fine. Tom's a great guy, and he has an amazing crew behind him. I miss the Rock and Augie dearly. In my writing the hardest thing to construct for me has always been human characteristics; feelings, emotions, a quality of life... I've found that it's hard to construct any traits unless you've lived through it or know someone who has lived that lifestyle. As tough as I've always appeared, I found out a few months ago that I am human, and leaving does hurt. With me being overseas I'm learning different emotions that I never thought were present in me. I've been keeping a journal, a log, to remember my feelings and certain events that I know if I didn't, my mind would let slip away. I wish I could share it with you, but the military says that I have to wait a couple years before I attempt to publish anything since my job over here is classified.

Here's what I can say: Baghdaddy is beautiful. "The night turns gracefully as I sit at my fighting position watching the stars dim, waiting as the blazing sun rises against a Mosque somewhere in the distance. The blue dome splits the sun in two and the heat slowly races towards me. I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders as my attempts to fight off my selfishness are growing weaker and weaker as the sun blinds me. The weight of the world is the only ounce of strength that remains as my eyelids are forced to keep the watch. The pressure builds as my days seem endless and my relief ever so distant. My heart beats faster as the pressure builds and all I want to do is curl into a ball and lay behind my sandbags and grab a bit of sleep. The world will fall if I do, America will never forgive me, and they’ll remember me for my “laziness” because I was the soldier who let him die sleeping on guard, not because I was lazy but because my shoulders needed a release for an hour or two." -that's from the journal

It's not entirely too bad though, I work the night shift, 11p-11a, I eat 4 times a day (they have a midnight chow that's pretty good), I have AC, as much water Gatorade, soda, snacks, as can be expected. They're arranging 2 man trailers for us to live in. We've been sleeping on cots for the past 2 months, better than the ground like the old guys were doing. The palaces are amazing; Saddam even had water pumped into the desert to surround his palaces. It's hard to imagin that bombs went through some of these buildings and they are still standing, many of them I've walked through, many of them we've slept in. I've seen palm trees, camels, cacti! My 'overexcitement' will never take the place of the regret in coming here though, wish I would have finished out with the friends and people I've grown to love, the one's who've made Augie a Home for me. I just hope it doesn't change too much during my absence. I requested for my 2 week leave around the beginning of May. Alright, my shift starts in 15, time to play Army.

Yours Truly,
Father of One

Stories from an American kid

2006-10-29T04:19:00.000-06:00

Stories from an American kid

"In life there are things a man never sees if he never voyages out of his realm. When a man travels outside his own enemy lines, he is filled with a flow of feelings that once were dreams and apart of his imagination. It is like taking a farmer and putting him into a city, his eyes become engulfed with a world he has never witnessed. Like when Christopher Columbus traveled across the Atlantic, he had no idea what he was in for. He had no idea of the Indians he would stumble upon when reaching the “New World.” You take that man who has known nothing but blue skies coated with fluffy clouds, grassy meadows filled with sunflowers, tulips, orchids, and apple orchards when the leaves turn yellow, orange, and purple, and place him in a valley of loneliness, heat so strong there is no time to sweat before your vapor is evaporated, a valley where the grains of sand are so deep you could dig for days and find nothing but a bottomless pit of even more sand, camels, camel spiders, and scorpions so poisonous their bite would kill a child in 23-minutes, and after a few months, that man is bound to go crazy and become homesick. The voyage is something out of this world. Those before us, Magellan, Columbus, hell even Ulysses himself might be the only known heroes who have suffered a plague this deadly. This plague this lonely state of being exists with those of us who’ve traveled across the Atlantic, those of us who’ve passed over the Pacific in hopes to bring world peace to a Democracy we call the United States of America. We fight not in a bicameral government, but in a system known as a dictatorship where the soldier in charge is the soldier who governs the livelihood of the soldiers who fall before him.

In the end, when this is all done, when the fighting is no more, for each soldier, he will go home and he will marry his girlfriend, bare children, and will tell his stories to each child as a remembrance of the war he fought in. And in History class when that child is old enough to understand, he will tell the tales of his father, he will quote the works of many great authors, and his understanding of the stories will grow stronger. William Shakespeare said, “We few we happy few, we ban of brothers; for whoever has shed his blood with me shall be my brother. And those men afraid to go will think themselves lesser men as they hear of how we fought and died together” King Henry V…..

....In movies, actors and actresses sometimes talk about how peaceful the night is. They mention something about how it is their favorite time of the day. I understand it now, I mean it is peaceful because it is quiet, there is no one around (usually), and sounds seem to travel on forever in an awesome alluding area allocated to almost no one, left alone for the scene. My favorite time of the day comes in the chow hall, I mean honestly, the noise and bustle, and the rush to eat allows conversations to flow and the slosh slosh of mashed potatoes and pork chops to question every existence. Ernest Hemmingway says that a mind is a terrible thing to waste, so why not waste a couple meals debating over which there is the correct they’re to use in a sentence?

Most of us read to keep our minds busy, we play video games on our play station portable, we listen to Mp3 players, watch DVDs, and listen to CD players to keep our minds free from home. The hardest part about war is time, and when time seems endless, and your mind decides to start wasting away, there is nothing that a man can do to stop it, except occupy it with some other senseless tool like an entertainment device. If he were to stare at his watch and watch the ticks past the second hand, and wait for the second hand to pass the hour hand, and then eventually the hour hand would pass 12 twice, and he would be able to check off yet another day, until the days reached a week, a month, and slowly turned into a year in combat. Then, he would not find himself taking part in war but locked away in an institution because time can turn a highly motivated soldier into an institutionalized corpse, time can corrupt a man and make him do things that normally he wouldn’t do, time harnesses the mind and if it is not held back, time will pass without you knowing it, so we occupy our minds with useless entertainment devices to keep our manhood, and our sanity showing strong….."

I saved this one day a while ago.. coulda been a poem haha

2006-10-03T08:06:00.000-05:00

I leave the country unofficially tomorrow. Everyone's worried, it's in their voice, it's in their eyes. Everyone is afraid of what's to come. My stomach hurts and I have the squirts...

Cherry

2006-09-08T16:41:00.000-05:00

The crazy part is that I'm 21 and I'm considered old. I finished my first book the otherday, my first book ever. Crazy as it sounds, I'm an English major who has never read front to back, well until a couple days ago. Maybe life's telling me that I'm going to start finishing events before picking up and starting anew. I'm going to marry the girl, I want to...she's my outlook on a future. I like cherries baby. :)

Few Random Phrases

2006-08-19T14:43:00.000-05:00

Some Random Phrases I've found in my military notebook...

I think this one's from Basic: "If you make yourself more than just a man, you make yourself more than a man, you're a soldier and you're a legend. "

"These are the time that try men's souls. The summer soldiers and the sunshine patriots will in this crisis shrink from the service of their country."

These are recent: "Here I go standing witness to this witness. Through eyes that by certain misfortunate circumstance has developed into this mission."

"It still amazes me that I have a little girl."

"Sometimes I step back and look at myself. I see that I pass the time starring at completely nothing, and it amazes me when I, think. Think about how relaxed that nothing actually me."

ELEVEN BRAVO LEADS THE WAY...

2006-08-12T09:36:00.000-05:00

i dont scare easy... but they're doing a really good job of it. I'm in New jersey at Ft. Dix... we're not receiving mission essential training... it's just collective training to strike a pen against a box check it off and say, "task complete." Everyone who is SEC-4 does these types of missions. We're Infantry...cocky...and pissed that we're going to lose soldiers not because of negligence or accident, but becuse we weren't properly training at out premob station, and I'm scared for this. There's some really young guys with me... and well yeah, they're young as hell. I'm only 21, but 18...and 19...and in the guard for a little less than a year... I've officially been tasked out as a gunner. I qualified expert on all four machine guns, and sharpshooter on the M4 rifle... the lane for that qualification was tough, only one guy qualified expert the entire day... and it wasn't me. We're going to the shotgun range today and well our mission is going to include breaching doors... we're not going to camp bucca anymore...!

ELEVEN BRAVO LEADS THE WAY...

i'm done with the army when i get home... i can't wait to hold her...i'll never let her go again... ohh Kristen baby I love you... I can't stop thinking about you

My story

2006-07-21T22:10:00.001-05:00

So I'll make this straight to the point. I was a college student when I volunteered for war. I was going into my senior year and worked part time to pay the bills. I lived with a couple of the greatest guys a kid could wish for; they all were in my frat. I was just becoming spiritual, and believing in God. And I had no idea how hard it'd be when I started Active Duty training. It's hard for me because I just met the girl of my dreams, the one whom I hope to one day whirl around the alter, and stand up high and say to her... "Baby we did it! we did it!" It's about to get a little bit harder from here on out. Things are all about to change. I'm not about to sleep in the same rack that I have been for the past 2 weeks... I leave for the field in the next few days. The Operations Order has been given and I'm not able to talk about the mission. Our convoy rides out tomorrow for training, and I'm not able to talk about that too... the military has this group called SEDA, and well, I'm restricted from telling too much. But by te 31st, I won't be able to tell Kristen I love you everyday. Or I won't be able to call her all the time. Or I won't be able to see her beautiful... my beautiful dimples every other day. I love her.. It's hard being an ENglish major because I have so many words in my vocabulary, but I don't have the words to tell her HOW much I love her.... I started writing again..

I've been writing about the deployment. And well, it's unedited, unmastered, it's SHIT right now.. not even proofread.. but I'll post it anyway, because it's an idea, a thought that came up and well, most of my thoughts get typed up or written down....

The Beginning:
We were a band, a group of guys who all volunteered for this mission, most of us had never served with one another, but that all changed. We had blacks, whites, Mexicans, niggers, white trash, and spicks. Within that diversity, we all had one strong ass similarity; we were all ready and all willing to fight. The youngest was 18, just out of Basic, and the oldest was about 62, with great grandkids back at home. Either way, old, young, black, white, or Mexican, we were all risking out lives, we were all ready to kill, we were all preparing for war, and we were all scared as hell to be there.

I was 21 when I found out about the unit from the Southside of Chicago deploying overseas to Iraq. I was just finishing my junior year at Augustana College. I lived with a couple of the greatest guys a kid could wish for; they all were in my frat. I was just becoming spiritual, and believing in God. And I had no idea how hard it'd be when I started Active Duty training. It's hard for me because I just met the girl of my dreams, the one whom I hope to one day whirl around the alter, standing up high, saying to her... "Baby we did it! WE did it!" My favorite drink was rum and coke, I liked partying, loved music, and my daughter; she was two. It's about to get a little bit harder from here on out. Things are all about to change.

I was only home from college six days when Sarah called me and invited me over her friend’s apartment on the Westside. Sarah and I had a rough friendship, after knowing her for five years online, we finally met when she finally turned 16. Her eyes could warm a teddy bear. Her gentle touch made a room full of grown men ache because it wasn’t them she was touching. She was everything I wanted then. She captured my virginity and disrupted my brain like a ball deep to left-centerfield, but robbed at the warning track to end the game. Our relationship lasted eight months before I found out she was cheating on me. Halting our friendship I decided to end all conversations with her. Every-now-and-then she would call me or text me to see how I was doing. She’d come up to school to see me from time to time. She was a really good friend, or at least she tried acting like one. If it wouldn’t have been for her, I would never have met the love of my life.

Kristen’s taste blazed my thoughts with envy. The sun rose when she told it to, and set when she was finished for the day. At least in my eyes, she was a queen, and I, her royal knight....

All for K10

2006-07-15T22:12:00.000-05:00

so maybe i'm being pushy.. but I have a feeling gOD is telling me, "Son she's the one." I feel it. I told denni... if it's meant to be it'll be when he gets home. He fucked around on her, and she's been the greatest wife any man could wish for....

So I was looking through Tiffanys and a few other ring companies... enough said... :)

I get mased tomorrow... it's bed time.. tired fuck

here we go again...

k10 I LOVE U

My Loves; My Love

2006-07-06T22:11:00.000-05:00

It's a love thing, I mean it really is. You experience the same feelings day in and day out. You push and pull, give and take, and when the days over you sleep together and tell each other good night. It's a feeling that many humans never really get to hold onto, something that many of us are lucky to experience twice. I've lost it and found it again, but in a new shape, a new form, a new color, and she belongs to a different creed, and I love her. No matter how much pain I'll feel because she's There, no matter how long our journey is together, no matter what happens in between, I'll always love her.

I wrote a poem years ago titled, my two loves...It's old, I won't edit it.. It's gay now haha:

"The smell of the grass just after it rained.
The field was so still. The crowd held silent. "Lets' be heroes-" that’s what I said, Quoting a line from the #1 movie. The things we see, the air we smell is nothing to the power we've held. That night something different I notice in the air,it gleamed and stuck around until the final sound was soon heard. As the whistles blew and the night turned weary, I knew this night was one I'd remember.... Forever, forever.

I saw you there.With h her that night. You looked cold, yet I was so hot. I took off my sweater and set it aside, the night was soon to begin andI did not know how to react. "Ryan McCallum!" is what Coz said, after we'd won the toss and possession was ours- Jet left, Jet right- the plays I'll remember. As C.H. ran in a TD- breaking free for some years. This night was full of memories- those I shall cherish. This night was full of endings- some not so clear. The end of my love, the end of my loves. Football and Sarah are the things I've tried to undo. I feel like a stranger when I talk to you "for real." sometimes I breathe and remember where I am, then it all goes back to whom I'm with now... no one Things have changed my loves, my loves.. You will always share a special place in my heart... The day will soon come where I shall not live, yet all the things we've shared will live oinfinatent years. I love 2 things and two things only, the love for the game, and the love for my Sarah Bloom."

Well obviously loves change, and we stilcherishsh those same childhood dreams, the memories of what used to be... We'll always love the thought of a dream, but dreams are just that, visions of what could be, or what could have been.

I love two things, and two things complete me, I love God's Infantry; The Queen of Battle, and I love my Princess, K-10. As I lay down tonight and head to bed, I HOLD MY PICTURE OF KIRSTEN in one hand, and say good night to the two; my K-10 and my brothers...and blow a kiss West in hopes that it reaches her before she lays down for bed...

until next time

My Last Valentine

2006-06-29T01:35:00.000-05:00

I hope you read this, in inspiration of my coming home to you baby....
I hope you stumble upon this... in inspiration of me coming home to you baby....
I hope you wait for me... after you read this... it'll be inspiration for me and you baby.

So here it is. I'm faced informs of the demon that I've been waiting my entire life to battle. A demon that is familiar to all enemies of the United States, both foreign and domestic. Everyday I wait for something to happen, for that demon to show itself; when you least expect it, it happens, they're there. Like coming home to Springfield and hanging out with my ex-girlfriend, my old school best friend, but still my best girl--friend. I really didn't know what to expect that night, hell the time before that when we hung out I met the guy I hated second in her life. I couldn't Handle being There, so I left and went a different direction. But like any friend, I picked my ass up and went over her friends house, after a couple phone calls. . .

This story reminds me of a fiction story that I read in my EN300. I believe Allison Mezonni wrote it... it was really good; just all too familiar to me now... But I went over and met her friends. I really liked one of them, she was pretty cute, and well I liked something about her. It didn't strike me until I was, "looking at her phone," I mean, putting my number in her phone on her couch. I suppose I should mention that I was eating my wings on her couch, and well she wasn't too excited about the idea of me dropping one on her couch... Or white carpet, I flirted back telling her that I'd be sure to drop one on her floor...

She texts me, asking if I wanted to go to Six Flags.. I really didn't think it was a possibility. You know how people say things and really don't mean them. Like being a friend and not really wanting to be a friend, but saying so only to be nice. That's what I feel most of my life has been. Just one big joke... But anyway. She's amazing. She's trying to stay occupied right now as I write in this journal. I have exactly one day left with her, and she is the best thing that's come into my life since Brook. She's the best thing that's happened to me since birth. I'd give up the world for her. I'd shoot down the moon if she told me to. I'd throw away my ambitions for the thought of her safety. She's trying to stay occupied instead of going to bed.. Waiting... Waiting... Waiting for me to come with her to bed.

Her lower lip...It's the best.

Her right knee.. Um no ... Left... Um... No right... nah, her left knee is the best.

I like her eyes when she wears eye liner; hell I like'em without out it too.

I like kissing her ears, her dimples, her chin, her stomach.. Her shoulders.. Her toes. She's amazing. She's the one I'd like to come home to. Ha, she asks me if I'm coming home, when she means are you coming to my apartment. Everyone jokes and calls her mom, well...She's perfect for me, because I'm the Dad, overlooking, always concerned, always waiting... Waiting... Waiting for her to be all mine.

Here I sit, scared and praying that she'll be mine. I hope that when I come home from fighting in this war that I'll have had the highest decorations that the military can offer, that my kids will have their college paid for, that I'll get a purple heart for being scratched. I hope that I can fight off thousands of Iraqis and save my entire platoon... all by myself. I love the girl.. and I can't wait to go to bed.

Good night.. I love you, "Jane."
Definately your lower lip....

Best Buy

2006-06-11T22:59:00.000-05:00

I walked into Best Buy here in Springfield the otherday thinking maybe some of my old friends might have gotten transfered down here.. atleast for a day.. hoping that I picked the right day to stop by. I miss Jenn and Basma, Bryan and Ben. I miss J Dub and J Dub, J Dub and J Dub. I miss looking over the schedule realizing I had no hours....and then Jenn happily giving me hers. I miss going to buy Red Fruit Passion and maybe some candy knowing that I'd be getting off in 45 minutes, and then scarfing down a burger. I miss Ryan Ladwig and his well strange comments... well, yea. I miss Webbie and his purple shirts. David on Thursday, every Thursday, "Yo man you goin out?" knowing my answer would always be, "Yea, Carriage Haus right?"

The Continum

2006-06-06T18:49:00.000-05:00

You get to a point of loneliness when all you think about is finding the right one. When you find her, and lose her, your world seems to almost end. Even though your intimate relationship might be over, and your world seems significantly smaller, that means to an end, isn't really an end, but the perfect beginning. The beginning is exactly where I currently find myself, and I'm loving it. To reach out and touch a warm back, a warm arm, a thumb, lips, toes, neck, nose, well that's when you know that the beginning will soon end, but that end, isn't an end, it's the beginning of something else. . .

right?

2006-06-06T01:27:00.000-05:00

The one thing that I can't stand is when I write something... and something happens... and it's deleted. I hate that.... It took me damn near 30 minutes to write what I wanted to say in this blog...but... NOPE.

11B US Army Infantry; Follow ME!

2006-05-30T21:46:00.000-05:00

When they ask me why I do it, there really isn't much you can say. All you need to do is show them propaganda and you will have atleast ten males show up wanting to be in the United States Army as Infantrymen... 11B FOLLOW ME, I am The Infantry!

My Peck

2006-05-30T03:09:00.000-05:00

So my friend and I went to Gold's Gym the otherday and we lifted pretty hard. I did like 6 sets of flys at about 15 repetitions; I was going crazy. I seriously think I tore my peck muscle now two days later my chest still hurts. Oh well, that's what it's made for...maybe I can manage a massage out of someone.

My bestfriend comes back tomorrow, I'm pretty excited, we're supposed to go to Six Flags with some new ladies ohh shoot here we go.

Little Miss Brook came over and stayed at the house for a few nights... tonight is the first night that she's not sleeping in the Dora bed I got her for Christmas. God only knows where she's resting her head tonight.

My first entry I guess

2006-05-29T01:45:00.000-05:00

So I'm not new to this whole world-wide ideal of creating an online journal. In fact I have over 500 entries online, many of them were housed at Diary-x...But they closed down, I have more than 150 at xanga.com, but it seems like everyone that I know has access to it. So for this one, this one will be for really close friends, and the people I just so happen to meet when I travel along this path called life. I won't share my real identity with you, and I'll only describe a little about me... I'll give YOU hints to who I am, but you'll never really figure it out.... My name's Antwone and I was born and raised a military brat. Born in California and moved to the Midwest, I enjoy traveling, so I signed up for the military to see the world. I'm scared. I'm scared that my little girl may never actually KNOW her daddy. I'm afraid to leave the tearful eyes behind. I'm not afraid of going into a war zone, I'm just fearing all that is felt behind while my life is on standby, waiting to be restarted.

I am a 21 year old English major with a creative writing emphasis. I attend Augustana College in Rock Island, Illinois, where I'm entering my fourth year as a student. I am striving towards a minor in Studio Art, I debated for a while on whether or not to take philosophy and also make it a minor, but I decided not to punish my brain with anymore inflict of sorrow and or loss. My life is a double standard just waiting to crash and burn. At school I am an entirely different person then when I am at home. It is a tough gig, but someone has to do it.

Besides from classes everyday, I also and very involved on campus, I currently hold three executive board posistions, and have held as many as five in one year...

keep reading more to come....