The lasting effects of war seem to linger no matter the work we put into recovery.
It’s nice to live in my bubble. It’s especially nice when the bubble has water, food, shelter, a bed, Wi-Fi, gasoline, the list goes on and on. I have spent the last seven years of civilian life in Iowa, after almost eight years of active-duty service in the United States Air Force. During my time in the service, I was fortunate enough to see droves of different places throughout our world.
The military stationed me at the foot of the Wasatch Mountain range at Hill Air Force Base, Utah, a very different backdrop from the Iowa cornfields I had grown up with. From there, they sent me through big-city Baltimore, Maryland on our way to Ramstein, Germany en route to Baghdad International Airport, Iraq. Or, was it the southern Carnic Alps of Italy, and by C-130 to Joint Base Balad in the dead of night to ensure we didn’t take rocket-propelled grenade fire? Seems like a lifetime ago, yet I can say with certainty that anyone who has traveled military air will tell you the C-17 trips were far superior to the C-130 flights, sitting in jump seats. The Souq Waqif market in Doha, Qatar remains one of my favorite destinations, as if you are instantly transported to an erstwhile era the second you step into the ancient bazaar.
My hardships stem from trips to the Middle East, and I have never squeezed the trigger of my weapon in combat.
My primary responsibility, while stationed in Iraq, was to function within the role of support. We inspected and maintained the equipment for the pilots of the F-16 Fighting Falcon aircraft. They dealt death to insurgents from above, while we remained on base ensuring their gear was always prepared. I left the safety of base once, to donate supplies to the local population. We carried our weapons, daily, and I remain thankful I never had to use mine. But, that hasn’t saved me from some of the atrocities of war.
We sat in the hotel room, it was early or late depending on who you ask, 04:00 a.m. A long night of drinking had facilitated an experience which seemed all too common from our distant past. It was one I hadn’t experienced in the years since being removed from these people. Memories and stories of “good-old days” made way to a fresh conversation, and we soon began to heal from the hardships of our past.
- “It’s hard for me to be in crowds or around lots of people.”
- “I don’t like a lot of people close to me either.”
- “I can’t do hospitals because of the blown-up kids.”
- “Remember the C-RAM, brrrrr……”
- “Mortaritaville, they called Balad because of mortar attacks every day.”
- “Who sits facing the door?”
- “Nightmares never allow me to get back to sleep.”
- “Transition to civilian life was hard as hell.”
These sentiments were echoed by every Veteran in the group. Time has dispatched us throughout the United States, from Oregon to Texas, all the way to Florida, and some states in between. It has been over a decade since our trip together to Iraq, and life keeps us too busy to remain in constant contact. But, as we sit and share some of those hard times it allows us to heal. Soon, I’m nodding my head in agreement, and I realize we are all more alike than we care to admit. More than a decade removed from our trip to Iraq, here we all sit together, sharing, growing, and healing. Each one of us working our way through our fog and haze of war. It felt so good to relate and let my worries rest. Then, we cheered the end of our trip, shared our excitement for our future, reveled in the elation that we had finally made a reunion happen, and hit the rack.
As, António Guterres, Secretary-General of the United Nations, has stated so eloquently, “The decisions of the coming days will shape our world and directly affect the lives of millions upon millions of people in Ukraine, in Russia, and beyond. It’s not too late to save this generation from the scourge of war. We need peace.”
When war dominates the headlines, and it is everywhere you look, it’s hard to escape.
If you are having a hard time dealing with current events, remember you are not alone. There is no shame in getting help to make it through the valleys. The unforeseen cost of war cannot be calculated; consequently, it should only be utilized as the very last resort. We must do everything in our power to save future generations from the menace of war.
