Retrospect

It seems like only yesterday that I wrote "more to come soon" and then disappeared into the maelstrom of "normal" life. Soon has come and gone and my time deployed is but a distant memory, faded in such a way that it may very well have just been a movie I saw, yet the experience has indelibly changed me.

The superficial effects were shed quite quickly - I got used to sleeping in on weekends, picking out my own clothing, choosing what I wanted to do with my day, talking to people in full sentences instead of abbreviated to-the-point military speak, etc. Once the many outward signs of my deployment were shed, it was all too easy to get sucked back into the life I had before I left.

I quickly learned that, while the unyielding intensity of my deployment wore me to the core, it was a simple and reliable type of stress. I had one job; one focus. I did not have to worry about overflowing toilets, electric bills, changing the oil in my car, cooking, laundry, social schedules, or anything other than my one job. All of those tasks belonged to someone else - their one job. Now, those tasks all belong to me. As strange as it was, the simplest of daily tasks wore at me more than any rocket attack or 16 hour day. This is what I refer to as the maelstrom of "normal" life.

But, how quickly the human mind adapts. As I got used to putting on shoes instead of boots every morning and grabbing my cell phone instead of my M9 pistol, I got used to the "new" old life too. And so, with time, that part of me faded away. I remember it with vivid clarity, but it lives in part of my mind that I don't frequent. Were I to try, I could still taste the moon dust in the air and the stench of the burn pits and poop-pond... but I don't try, and those memories are content to remain in the wings, out of my active conscience.

With every rule, however, there are the exceptions. Those memories that transcend "memory" and become more a part of you than anything else. For example - prior to my deployment, I was always a cautious and perhaps borderline suspicious individual; always keeping an eye on the shady looking hoodlum across the street, sitting with my back to the wall in restaurants. Since returning, I have noticed my hypervigilance even more. It does not consume me nor is it a cause for concern, but it is a definite effect of my deployment. I am highly cautious, highly aware, always observing the people and environment around me.

In the same vain is my apparent hard-wired response to the specific tone and frequency of the Kandahar Airfield rocket-attack alarm. Whether it is the sound of an electric motor spinning up at just the right speed or the local power plant testing an alarm, there have been times where my ears have heard the tell-tale sound of incoming fire and my adrenaline has begun to careen through my veins before my mind can take control of the situation. I believe that this has been permanently ingrained on my mental circuitry, part of my primal fight-or-flight mechanism. I don't know if I'll ever be able to hear that noise without my heart skipping a beat.

So what does this all mean? To the causal reader, it might sound like the experience was all together horrible, and in some ways you would be right. I believe that those who chose to join the military are by and in large different than most - not for the better or for worse, but just different. I would never suggest that the average person undergo a deployment to a combat zone. I can say that for me, it was an overall beneficial experience.

Not a day goes by that I don't somehow reference an experience from my deployment, whether it be to remind myself that things can always be worse, or that things always seem worse when you're in them. Perhaps it's an anecdote about daily life during deployment or the job I was sent to do. No matter what, my time in Afghanistan, as well as the time preparing for and returning from, has given me a rare perspective that cannot be taught in any school or learned on any other job. And it has given me a sense of pride and accomplishment. I walk with my head a little higher, my chest a little fuller, and my self-confidence a little stronger.

I know what I have been through, and that I came out stronger than I went in. I know that I have an amazing network of family and friends who will stand by me to see me through even the darkest of days. I know that, even when I am at my wit's end, I have the will power and fortitude to carry on. I know that I have been and I have done and that is good enough. And I know that, if ever asked, I would gladly do it again.

Thank you all for your love and support.