Twenty-Three

Somewhere along the plane ride I’d fallen asleep. The flight attendant woke me up to tell me that I’ve arrived at my destination. I straighten up in my seat and I thank the flight attendant who smiles gently at me, I smile back and then I quickly shake off this final act of tenderness. There isn’t going to be anymore of that. I need to get focused on what’s ahead of me. If I’m going to make it through this I can’t allow myself to be soft. Alright, I’m ready. All the other passengers on the plane start to gather up their equipment, picking up their rifles and bayonets, slinging their duffle bags across their backs and tossing their rucksacks across their chests. Every one of us is moving in silence as we get ready to walk off the plane. Then the flight attendants tell us to sit back down. We need to wait while they determine if we are going need any chemical equipment before getting off the plane. We stay standing, waiting while they discover if there has been a recent chemical alarm. After the silent minutes tick by, they tell us it’s all clear and we aren’t going to need our chemical suits or protective masks. This is my last glimpse of civilization, my last taste of freedom for the next 180 days. I take it all in, trying to memorize every moment of it. I look each and every flight attendant in the eyes as I pass by them, trying to see if I can read their thoughts. Our lives are so different, the lives of myself and these flight attendants. We head to the door one by one, with the overly friendly flight attendants wishing a farewell to each and every one of us as we trail off the plane, as if this had been a real flight to a real location. They’re dropping us off in a war and then they’re heading back home to their safe, luxurious, free lives. I can’t help wondering what thoughts are running through their heads at this very moment. Are they soaking up this moment the same way I am, or are they just thinking about getting the hell out of here as quickly as they came. Damn. I envy these flight attendants. Did I make the right decision? What have I gotten myself into? Maybe joining the military to pay for college wasn’t such a good idea after all. Is it too late to change my mind? There’s a single file line of soldiers behind me pushing me forward. This is it. I stand still for one more brief moment. My final moment of before and after. I know my next step is going to be a step into a new life. My old life is gone and my life will never be the same again. I know my life is about to change forever. As I walk off the plane, I turn around and take one last look at the plane. I see the flight attendant close the door behind me. I turn back around and I keep walking. There’s no more looking back now. I had expected the heat to hit me first, but to my surprise, it was the sun. It’s so bright. I feel like I’m walking on the sun. I’m blinded by the brightness, I have to squint my eyes almost to the point where they’re closed. Then the heat hits me, it’s overwhelming, it doesn’t just take my breath away, it gags me. The heat tries it’s best to strangle me, but it doesn’t win. We all walk in a line from the plane to the airplane hanger. This will be my new residence for the time being. Great. I’m going to live in an airplane hanger. We walk down the runway and in the distance I see a basketball court with several soldiers playing basketball. They look like they’re just passing the time, playing a game. It’s just an ordinary day for them. As we get closer I notice all the players are wearing chemical masks. We walk across the court and right through their game. They don’t even acknowledge us, the soldiers just keep playing while we parade through their game. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. The walk though their game feels like a lifetime. I feel lost, misplaced. I have no idea what’s in store for me. I’m so focused on this moment in time, I’m not able to think clearly. Everyone in our line walks by without a word, we exchange glances with one another, wondering if we’ve been misinformed about the necessity of wearing our masks or chemical suits. Why are all the soldiers on the court wearing their masks if we don’t need to wear ours? Damn, I’m not thinking clearly. They’re just fucking with us. I guess this is our welcome to the desert. We keep walking. We enter the airplane hanger. It’s been converted into a housing area. There are rows and rows of cots lined up, one cot right next to the other with barely enough room to walk between them. Most of the cots are occupied with soldiers lying on their new beds. There’s really nothing else for them to do. I get a glimpse of my future. Lying on a cot in an airplane hanger. There are bathrooms outside of the hanger. Wood boxes made into latrines. There are no showers. The food during my stay at this establishment will be dehydrated MREs, meals ready to eat. I look around for a cot, but I’m not as lucky as the others. All the cots have been taken. I’ve got a sleeping bag and a hard foam mat. I could just make do on the floor with the mat and the sleeping bag. It wouldn’t be the first time since I’d joined the Army that I’d found myself sleeping on the floor. But I don’t bother with it. It’s too hot for a sleeping bag. I’m not sure how temporary these arrangements are, I might need to be ready to go at a moments notice and there might not be enough time for me to put away my sleeping gear. Yeah, these are all legitimate reasons for not pulling out my sleeping bag, but none of these are the real reasons why I don’t want to bother with it. The real reason? I don’t want to be that comfortable. This is a miserable place and I want to be miserable while I’m here. The shittier it is here, the better it’ll be for me. I don’t want to see one ounce of softness or experience one minute of pleasure while I’m here. Comforts like that are only going to remind me of everything I’m missing. It’ll remind me of all the things I’ve left behind and all the things I may never live to see again. I make myself as uncomfortable as possible on the floor. I use my ruck sack as a pillow. I unbutton my battle dress uniform top and slide it off using it as a blanket. I lay down on the floor wearing my t-shirt and the rest of my uniform and I try not to think about anything at all. The long flight and the heat must’ve wore me out more than I realized because I fall asleep lying on the floor. I get woken up to the screaming sound of a siren. It’s loud and long, like a train whistle. I’m so tired, I don’t feel completely awake even though my eyes are open. I have this memory of being young and walking along the train tracks, I don’t remember where I was going, probably nowhere, most likely just passing the time. I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet and then I heard the unmistakable sound of the train whistle. Long and loud, too long and too loud. Next came the clickety-clack sound of the train rolling over the tracks. The train swaying back and forth as each car passed by me. Clickety-clack…. Clickety-clack…. The train lets off one more long whistle before leaving. The train’s leaving for good. I feel like it’s saying good-bye to me. I wonder. Is it? Is it saying good-bye to me? There will be other trains that come through here on this track, but this particular one will never be here again. This one is gone forever. Just like so many other things in my life.