1.
The callous opening
of the certain to be creaking door forces my eyes open again as the indifferent
light of midday pours over the makeshift plywood barrier that some would call a
wall and into my escape known as a room. I quickly shut it out with lightly closed
eyes while I blissfully remember that I will actually sleep today. The welcome
effects of the Ambien would mute my racing mind shortly, and finally I would
rest. It has been over three weeks since I was last able to experience what
most would consider being sleep, having instead fought with my thoughts in
place of the more definitive enemy with whom I toiled on my previous
deployments.
Yes, I am at war
again. Well, I’m in a war, but that’s
not what I mean. The previous struggles with myself didn’t manifest during the
two years that I had spent in Iraq, but at homes in Tennessee, Germany,
California, and Texas. Here in Afghanistan though, on the eve of our withdrawal
from the shadow of the Hindu Kush, everything seems to be a little
bit…different.
I didn’t hear the
door because the Jaybird earbuds that I rely on to try to consummate my
disassociating illusion were attempting to lullaby me with Anna Nalick’s
“Breathe,” compliments of Pandora through my phone and the nearly unjustifiably
priced internet service that AAFES had so kindly monopolized for us. I say
nearly because habit now fully dictates that internet is better than no
internet. That and I don’t really have a CD player anymore.
The fact that I
even have the ability to take advantage of such things is just one of the
myriad of reasons why this time feels different. I refuse to allow myself to
complain about it, if only because of the music. Sure, the ability to know
what’s going on back home and to be able to talk to the family if I like is nice.
But forgo the music? I’d surely be lost without it.
My thoughts had
just started to coalesce around my worries as I noticed the warmth of the very
capable sleep aid beginning to kick in. Not
yet, I told myself. This is more important than the respite that I had been
so desperately seeking out. Norah Jones' sultry sweetness wasn’t helping me in
this endeavor so I begrudgingly removed my headphones, only to suddenly
experience the cacophonous racket of the military vehicles crunching through
the gravel as they meandered by the building. I imagined the Soldiers guiding
each one by foot, and could even discern their footsteps from the heavy rolling
wheels. Stop it. Focus before you fall
asleep.
I fought my way
back into the conversation I had with the Command Sergeant Major as he pecked
around his rationale for removing me from my Company to instead work for him,
mere weeks before we deployed. Sitting across from him was the youngest First
Sergeant in the Brigade, still yet after having aged two years in the position.
I managed the great responsibility as a rare non-promotable E-7, who over my
tenure, had built the finest fighting force in the Command. I knew
this even without relying on the reverence that pride demanded, but he admitted
as much to me while proceeding to delicately crush my current reality. There
was no arguing against it. His mind had been made up and I wouldn’t be
deploying with my men. It didn’t make sense to me, and I told him so.
Reverting to my
second Course of Action, I requested a release to accept the highly coveted
billet I had been offered as the Senior Operations Sergeant for the Commandant
of West Point, a position that my well networked Commander had negotiated for
me to get in light of his current frustration with the circumstances of my
surprise removal. The shrewd, wily CSM smiled as he paused before he looked me
in the eye and told me what I didn't want to hear, even if it was to be
expected. “Why would I agree to let someone of your caliber go right before we
go to war? No, I need your brain here.” Performance
punishment. I was surprised to notice his sure voice tapering off, catching
him looking down and away from the particularly insensible stare forward of my
clinched jaw. I had been defeated, and despite the glowing evaluation and
sympathetic words from my most senior enlisted leader, I didn’t even know why.
Regardless of my
present frustration, I respected the man. He had always appeared to me a
realist; firm, and willing to compromise when practical. Every sentence I had shared
with him reeked for the want of development. He was a true Soldier in that he
always appeared to put the needs of his organization first, regardless of
circumstances apparent demand to the contrary. His impersonality was enough to
embody the intrinsic vision of the highest enlisted rank, but he always ended
conversations with a conciliatory pat on the shoulder and a spry smile that
assured you that he was supposed to be right. The smile in this moment was
momentarily absent before he caught himself.
Drugged and
indiscernible semantics circled about the coming ether for what may have been a
few more minutes before I recalled my annoyance at having been relegated to
asking for some placatory measures. He assured me that I would be slotted in a
Master Sergeant position, continuing then to be rated as an E-8. It was my only
win of the meeting. “You deserve as much for the fine work you’ve done for us,
First Sergeant.”
He extended his arm
for a handshake as he rose from behind his desk. I couldn’t help but think that
this would be one of the last times that I would be regarded with the title.
“Anything else for me,” he asked as I prepared myself to hide the disgust that
I was feeling with such extant failure to achieve my objectives. Withholding
all the things that I had actually wanted to say, I simply thanked him for the
opportunity, managing somehow to keep the inherent sarcasm from escaping in
tandem with the words.
I surrendered the
fight in the office and behind my eyelids while effects from the chlorophyll
moistened rag that was the Ambien finally succeeded in encompassing my mind,
drawing me further into its dauntless darkness. I opened my eyes one more time
only to see the old style pineapple grenade gimmick on the CSM’s desk enticing
me to pull the pin if I had a complaint.
