Lately, I cannot get
this event out of my mind. The VBIED, that could have killed me or any of the guys on my team out with me that day, did kill and maim. Thankfully, we weren't killed and the most severe injury was a few scratches from flying debris on just a couple of my guys. The Iraqis in the area didn't fare so well. I don't know that there was an official accounting of the dead, but my guess is around eighteen or so that died then and there or later that day. Dozens were injured. We saw many right then, we never saw most of them at all. Or not that we realized.
One memory that I see often and still affects me occurred about 15 or 20 minutes after the blast, I think. It is hard to tell because time stood still for a little while and later it went so fast I couldn't tell what was going on around me. In the post linked above, I described my military reaction to the event. I was so focused on the safety of my team, of setting up security, of sending up accurate reports and getting the doctor that was with us started treating wounded, that there was no time to reflect on what I was seeing or what I was doing at that time. I guess my day-after review focused on how I reacted as a Soldier, as a leader. Now, I've been home for over seven months and it's been nearly a year since the blast and I can't help but think of everything else. Like that one memory that I see all time...
Like I said, about 15 minutes or so after the blast, I had already checked on the status of my guys, all ok, we got our two team members out of the heavily damaged building in the mayor's compound and we readjusted our perimeter for better security. Iraqi civilians were racing through our area towards the blast site for most of that time, but now they started coming back, helping the wounded. A man, who looked like a father, was carrying a naked boy of about 10 years old or so. The boy was covered in blood but I couldn't tell where his wounds were. I remember the anguished look on the father's face as he yelled something in Arabic at me. I yelled back at him in English and pointed to the clinic. We had already sent the doctor there with an infantryman to pull security. The clinic was just ten meters away and I could tell that this man had no idea what I was saying as I kept pointing at the clinic yelling "DOCTOR, DOCTOR!" at this poor man.
Others wandered past, some moving quickly, some slowly, some bleeding, some not. I think about them a lot these days. I wonder what they did after that blast. What did they think? Who in their family did they lose? Who do they blame? What do they remember of me and my teammates who were there that day?
But, I can't stop thinking about that boy and his father. Did the boy live? Is he recovered and living a normal life? Is he going to school, playing soccer with his friends, helping his family with their flock of sheep or whatever the family business is? What does he remember from that day?
I have not talked about this to anybody yet. I have tried a couple of times, but I can't bring myself to do it. When I started to the couple of times I tried, I started to tear up, so I quickly changed the subject and left. I've thought about telling JILL, but I haven't had the courage to do so yet. She'll read this and I'll be forced to talk about it with her now, huh? So maybe that is why I'm putting this out there on the blog, to break the ice so she can know that there is something that I desperately want to talk about but haven't been able to. When the chaplain asked me if I'd talked to JILL about this yet, I told him no, that I wanted to but that hadn't. He asked me if I thought I should and I told him I should but didn't know how to get started... the chaplain and I never did finish that conversation. I think it brought up bad memories for him, too.
Let me tell you this about my time there in Iraq: I loved it and I hated it. I felt, and still do, a deep sense of pride serving my country and I believed, and still do, that I was there to help Iraqis. I hated the heat, I hated missing my family, I hated that I couldn't just give everything I had to the Iraqis and that I couldn't make them see what life as I know it is like, peaceful, free, and taken for granted. I loved the Iraqis even though I felt like our lifestyles are worlds apart. Not just the standard of living and the landscape, but the food, the culture, the way we think...
But not the way we love. I'll never forget that father that June day, carrying his wounded son, desperate for help, probably feeling helpless and anguished. I pray his son is well, that his family is well. I pray it every day.
Here's some of what we saw that day:
The photo above shows the Mayor's Compound in the left background with the roof partially collapsed. The meeting was supposed to be in that room with the collapsed roof. Thankfully the meeting hadn't started yet, nobody, that I'm aware of, was in that room. The pile of rubble in the center of the photo used to be a house like the one on the right. The solid concrete roof fell straight down, crushing and killing whoever was in that house. I know that children lived there, I don't know what happened to them.
This is a photo of the chassis of the truck used as the VBIED (Vehicle-Borne Improvised Explosive Device). Several hundred pounds of explosive in that truck created this crater:
The hole was at least six feet deep if not more. It hit a water main which was repaired several days later.
This photo was taken 12 AUG 07. The boy pantomimed that he'd been injured in the VBIED in June and pulled up his shirt. I asked if I could take his picture, so I took two.
I know that what I experienced was not anywhere near as bad as what many other Soldiers experienced. I wasn't injured, nobody close to me was injured. We didn't lose a Soldier on our team, though I did know, personally, a few Soldiers that were killed. Even just a few months after the VBIED happened, I didn't think about it much, maybe because I was still in Iraq and pushed it out of my mind. Since I got back from Iraq, I can't stop thinking about it. It's not like I think of constantly and nothing else, but I think about it every day. I've mulled it, I've replayed in my mind, I wondered, I've cried...
and I've prayed. I still do.
Other posts about this.
Toy CarCall MeObvious to Iraqis?My Little DevilThere were a few really good days, too.
Giggles. Make sure to watch the video at the end of that linked post. It still makes me smile. I need that after everything preceding this last link.
Military Iraq War
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