Talking to the walls

My previous career, which seems like a lifetime ago, put me in a situation that has forced several friendships to end in death. Most days I think about the guys that are no longer here and move on. There has not been a day when they do not make an appearance in my head. Often it just puts a smile on my face as I think about a memory we formed. Some days they really hit me hard though. 

I realize this is something that will never change. I have a lot of dead friends. Some were killed in war. Others died once we got back to America. Either way it just sucks. Beth helps me deal with the loss more than any thing else. She is an amazing woman. She struggles with it sometimes because she does not know how to address the problem when she sees it hit me. Some days I just need a drink and a few minutes to move on. Other times I just listen to this song and mope around the house for a while.

Uncle Heath's Story Time!

I thought I would share a story about the day I thought I was going to die in a port-a-potty.

During my first deployment to Iraq I lived at a base that was mortared a lot. When I say "a lot" I realize that can be hard to completely understand. It was a small base. More like an over glorified outpost. Our base received mortar fire daily. We had people killed and injured by mortars. On Mother's Day in 2004 we were hit by more than 70 rounds. I do not know the exact number because eventually I just stopped counting. I know the full impact may still be lost on you, but the story must go on! 

One day I was sitting in a port-a-potty, what is now known as the coach's office, just taking care of business. At this point everyone there knew what the sound of an incoming mortar round was like. It is a sound that we will never forget. So I heard the incoming rounds. I opened the door to see if anyone was running around me, looking for some clue if the rounds were hitting close to our building and more importantly if they were hitting near my completely plastic bathroom. I propped the door open with my boot just in time to watch a round splash roughly 100 meters in front of me. It was decision time! I pulled up my pants and started running towards our building. Roughly ten steps out of the port-a-potty I stopped and made a mad dash back to shitter. I stood in the plastic bathroom thinking, "this will keep me safe." Then it dawned on me that I was hoping to avoid burning hot shrapnel while inside a plastic box. This entire process was done in a matter of seconds, of course. I then ran to our building and waited out the mortar rounds. 

After the rounds had stopped I caught a whiff of the mess that had made itself at home in my pants during all of this running. I then had to grab the baby wipes and a clean set of underwear and make the walk of shame back out to the port-a-potty that just a few minutes before I had expected to save my life.

The day ended well. No one was injured. I had to throw away a pair of underwear, but at least it all happened so you could read this fun story :)

4 Years Since the War Ended

It has been four years since my final return from Iraq. My life has taken some huge steps since that day. I have a wife that is amazing. I am going to college, which is something I never thought I would do. I have put on at least 50 pounds and I can now count the number of times I shave in a year on my fingers. The war and the thoughts that the war have inspired are still going strong in my head though. I do not talk to my war buddies as much as I did when we first got out of the Army. The passing of time has the same affect on bonds built in war as they do on every other friendship. I still stay in contact with a few of the guys. Some are just simple conversations on Facebook while there are a couple that I still remain in contact with over the phone. There are some guys that have died since then. That is a conversation for another time though. I have witnessed the same changes in my life take place in theirs also. War has a strange way of making the men that return home realize how completely fucked up the American way is. That is not to say that we all attack the same principles or ideas when we return home. Just that we come home to a nation that is concerned over problems that have absolutely zero bearing on every day life. Spending so much time in war thinking about coming home and the things that we want to do upon our return makes coming home to such trivial shit so painful. I did not care about politics while I was fighting a war for a politician. I just wanted to get my paycheck and make it back to Arkansas. Now I am so upset when I watch politicians try to force their beliefs on other through law that I want to slap a baby. I have seen this same change in my buddy, Sheets. Sheets and I used to spend every weekend together while we were in Texas. We never had a single conversation over politics or the news in general. We just played cards, listened to music, and drank until our bodies shut down. Watching him change has made me aware of the way my mind has evolved because of war. This is nothing new, I understand that. Vietnam vets came back and became activist. My generation of warriors are doing the same thing. I am not even sure what it means. I just know that I care now. I never thought I would. I do not care if someone gets married when it has no impact on my life. I do not care if someone makes a choice to have a child or not. I just care that people are allowed to make choices in their life without the involvement of the government or anyone else.

Moving on in the Social Networking World

I am starting a blog for a few reasons. Will I be writing anything that is so amazing that I feel the need to share it with the world? Nope. I am just wanting a place where I can post shit that I do not want to put on Facebook. This blog does not have some clever gimmick that will keep you interested. I am simply looking for a place where I can say "fuck" without having to look at someone's baby picture or read about the stupid games they are playing. Maybe I will brag about my kickass wife; maybe I will brag about my kickass self. Either way I will be having a good time. Hope you enjoy whatever you read.