January 20, 2019

Safe and Sound

28 years ago, I was in the Middle East with the First Engineer Battalion. We were somewhere out in the middle of God only knows where, and that region of the planet experienced weather that it only experiences about every thirteen years.

Special Air Service operatives that were now deep in Iraq were experiencing snow storms as they attempted to take out mobile SCUD missile launchers. They were wearing summer uniforms and freezing their asses off.

Much further south, my unit was in a hold position as we waited for other divisions and allied forces to make their moves. That meant performing "stand to" every morning about 30-45 minutes before dawn. That means you get up, don your gear, and go out to the perimeter and make yourself ready for the enemy that might decide to add bullets and RPG's to your breakfast menu.

That particular time of that war stands out in my mind for one reason. Every single morning, we'd go out and lay prone for our perimeter guard, and scan the horizon for anyone that might be invading our temporary home. It would be dark and cold, and soon the sun would begin to brighten the horizon, and a glow of yellow and red haze would show the world that the sun was going to rise again, and bathe the Earth in warmth and light. I used to lay there and think about the mountains back home, and how the Apache must have done this same thing many mornings, and watched the sun rise, giving way to the cold, dark night that was full of predators.

But the worst thing that I remember was that every morning...without fail; it would pour rain for about 15-20 minutes. It was exactly like God walked over to his control panel and pushed the rain button for just a very short time, but the volume selector was set on maximum. It was just enough rain to soak you to the bone, and make you the most miserable son of a bitch for the next two hours that was possible.

I was always next to my buddy Gomez on stand to, and every morning we had a ritual of betting when the rain would start. When it did, we'd break out laughing. It was our "anti-insanity" mechanism, and it served us well. Then we would go back to our Saudi issued cotton fiber tent, and cuss up a storm because everything we had in that tent was soaking wet. As we smoked cigarettes and heated up instant coffee, we'd joke about that too.

The point I want to make is this. When you get up the morning, and walk to the kitchen in your warm home; pour yourself a cup of pre-brewed coffee, and sit on your lounger and sip it... remember those that gave up so much for you to be where you are.

Please thank a veteran for their service today. They will really appreciate it.

-Jim