More attacks. In the interest of operational security, I suppose I can say we got mortared. A lot. And people died, and people got hurt. Luckily no Americans, but still people.

That really sucks in fact. Seeing dead people sucks. Living in a war zone sucks. Crouching down listening to mortars hit really sucks, and wondering what it's like if shrapnel comes tearing through your body, well that sucks too. Sorry I guess I should be more descriptive, but that's all I can come up with right now.


Huddled around with 4 or 5 other guys all pressed up against you, just kinda listening to the "whump whump" of mortars hitting the ground, all kinds of interesting thoughts "When will this be over? Will I die here? Boy those are getting closer. I hope it's really quick, I'd hate to be bleeding all over the place and experience all of that pain. Will I see my family again? Kiss another girl, or drink a Guinness at happy hour? Who knows? I hope my underwear are clean (no shit, thanks to Mom, that thought did cross my mind--ha ha, I showered today AND changed my uniform-check that block) This waiting sucks, no control over the situation at all, the Marines won't be able to help me-they're crouched out in their hole too, thinking the same things I'm probably thinking."

Being here is a big life experience. Or death experience, depending on how you look at it. And so the big wheel keeps on spinning.

In fact, the only topic that tends to come up in times like this is questions of mortality (trumped only by the individual dialogue in my own head over my own personal mortality).

Like, gallows humor from soldiers, who only know coarse humor as the only way to get past the terrible things you see in a war zone (Did you SEE that dead guy??--and then proceeding to describe his anatomy in not so favorable terms-comparisons to things like swiss cheese, or chicken).

Or thinking, I guess war is something to see, anway, it brings out lots of interesting thoughts, like relief that the person that died isn't someone you know, and then horror and guilt and revulsion and personal confusion-how can I think that way?, I thought I was a good person, I don't want anyone to die, this is a human being, this is someone that died---huge guilt feelings, confusion...

Or like, when I go to put a big fat dip of tobacco in my lip, and I think-I shouldn't do this-this causes cancer.

Actual conversation:

B "That causes cancer you know."
Me- "Yeah, I might die from it, if the mortars/IEDs/bullets don't get me first."
B "Yeah, you're right, but cancer is no way to go, you lose all your dignity."
Me-to myself "Yeah, I guess my head getting shattered is a bit more dignified."

People here are AFRAID. It's all about those things that they talk about in military leadership schools--getting others to do things they have no desire to do whatsoever.

"Hey I was wondering if you'd like to go on a convoy today. Yes, there are probably 100 ways to die out there, and insurgents really would love to scarf you up, stick you in an orange jumpsuit, and parade you around on TV before they cut your head off, but what can you do? You know, accomplish the mission and all that."

This is not the approved approach by the way.

I could go on, and probably will, but tomorrow when I wake up, it will be much like today--relief that I survived another close call, a jangling of the nerves, the realization that others are looking up to me, so never lose your composure, thoughts that this is getting way too frequent to even be fun anymore, happiness in listening to Natalie as I fall asleep (Life is short and sweet, she says), and I really must say that I'm having second thoughts about this whole military career thing! But keep that to yourself, I might get in trouble if I come out with that one....

Anway random thoughts from a war zone.