David Hardt in Iraq

Bells of freedom draw near

By David Hardt
A Fort Lewis Stryker in Iraq

When you’ve been away from the real world as long as we have, when someone tells you to start packing for redeployment you almost can’t believe it. “What? We are parting this godforsaken country; I could have sworn they forgot about us.”

The morning starts out as normal — whatever the hell is normal these days. I go over my kit to make sure everything is there and working, and then I bend down and pick it up and throw it on. The weight drops like bricks on my shoulders. My shoulders have gotten stronger during this deployment, but slowly they are becoming fatigued as well as the rest of me. It doesn’t matter how much I run though. We all drag our tired bodies and minds out to the trucks. The sun starts to rise, and the insignificant coolness of the morning starts to fade quickly. The squad makes all of the adjustments on the truck, and then I sit down on the sidewalk. I look up at the blue sky and see a bird flying overhead that is larger than the birds we normally see here. I am suddenly hypnotized by its grace. Such a peaceful sight in such a war torn country — such irony.

Staff Sgt. Rine received the brief for the day and made his way over to the squad. “OK, Shoot (Davie), you can have the day off.” Davie answers in a tired, weary voice. “Can I take another day off if I don’t feel like it?” I jumped in. “I’ll take the day off.” Staff Sgt. Rine asked Davie one last time, but he declined the offer. So Staff Sgt. Rine told me to head back. I quickly did a reverse step and made my way back to the barracks. The reason for the generosity is we had a PT test, and everyone who went 80 percent or higher would get a day off. To some, being here and having a PT test was a little off the wall, so brilliantly our platoon sergeant, Sgt. 1st Class Evans, came up with a great incentive — work hard and receive an award. It’s an oldie but a goody. Not too often are we rewarded with anything over here, so this quickly got the competitive blood flowing for some of us. The platoon did exceptionally well; a percentage of men achieved their goal. The little things here make things easier to deal with. I wish there was some kind of reward to achieve when we leave the wire — except coming home in one piece. I guess that’s a good trophy.


I made my way back to my room and started the packing process. While over here we have moved at least, and doing that, I have gotten rid of a lot of stuff, making the quantity of clothes rather small. But I still had enough to make me work. After two hours, I finally had it all done. Now came the job of trying to close the duffle bag. I jumped on it, sat on it, kicked it, and then finally with sweat coming down the side of my face, I slapped the lock on it. Here’s the kicker — in the rush of things I had misplaced the key, ugh. If my head wasn’t attached that may be lost as well. As I finished, the platoon came back early from the patrol. Go figure, I get off the one patrol the guys come in early.


The past week has presented some interesting things, but really nothing out of the ordinary. The other day the deployment added yet another laugh. One of our company’s elements was tasked to pull security on a swimming contest in the Tigris River. Yes, you read it right. I wasn’t there to witness and give you an ESPN detailed account, but I asked some of the guys I knew would have the story straight. I asked, “So what happened at the river contest?” The solider answered with a big, funny smile on his face: “Well, we pulled security while they had a swim contest; it was hilarious. They jumped in, and they started the race. Some guys within a minute were sucking and went to the shore. A lot of them just took the current down. Overall it was entertaining.” I was amazed at his matter-of-fact disposition; it showed me a lot how this soldier dealt with how things have changed in this deployment. I ran into a buddy whom I went to lifeguard class with (yes, I hate water, but I did it anyway). He had some funny things to say. “Well, I finally found out why I am in Iraq and the reason I took the lifeguard course.” None of the guys I talked to were mad or upset; instead they were entertained. I guess after all of the ridiculous things we have done, this was no problem to them. They weren’t getting blown up, and snipers weren’t shooting, and that’s a good day in Iraq.

On our side of the boat, we conducted another water distribution that went really well. This time, the halfway decent weather brought out the folks (119 degrees), but not as many as I thought there would be. As usual, there were more kids than older people. As the week pushed on, we had our rotation at the combat outpost. I just want to say that every time you go to the COP you must remember that you will be slightly uncomfortable, sticky, dirty, and somewhat hungry. We all know it sucks, but as men, we do a hell of a job of not bitching about our situation because what the hell is it going to do? Not a damn thing. While there, I lost about four days of training for the marathon, but I managed to utilize the little workout equipment there. As the days went on, I found myself sitting around just thinking about home and everything I am missing. Being at the COP takes you away from the contact from home. This made me think about it more.

As the night went on, I finished my guard shift and made my way to the TOC to look for the commander. I found him and asked him if I could use his computer. He said yes, and I went to work. I looked at my watch, and it read 12:01 a.m. While I was writing, I heard some voices (no, I am not hearing things, well, at least not yet). The guys out on the front porch had congregated and sparked up some conversation. As I wrote, an hour or so went by. I noticed the chatter was getting louder, and it was followed by laughter. Laughter is not heard a lot around these parts — especially at the COP. But tonight all of the men showed up, and the comedy broke out.

After some time, I finished my writing and made my way outside. As I walked outside into the pitch dark, the only way I could identify where the men were was by the loud laughing and the red butts of the cigarettes. I made my way over there, but then I stopped. I took a step back and into a corner by the water and just listened to what was going on. Let me tell you, folks, men have some kind of imagination and colorful stories. The atmosphere was so electric and moving. I have always been outside the circle and really had no desire to jump in, but that night I witnessed men sharing their hearts as well as sharing some of their fears about home. Some of the other stories, well, you would have to put a bleep here and a rating sign there just to get through the whole thing. The coolest and funniest part was the chaplain was out there in the mix. Oh, let me make it clear: the chaplain put in his two cents of salvation. Since he is well respected, the men listened to him, but it didn’t stop the F-bombs and G.D.-bombs from dropping, but hey, you hang with the boys you have to deal with the cards. Not everyone is a God-fearing person, so no harm no foul.

Well, we made it through the COP and made our way back home. What came next was almost like going back in time to when we were at Falcon. I can’t share in detail what mission we had that made us stay in the barracks for almost two days, but let me tell you, waiting for the bad guys to be where they’re supposed to be is like a guy asking for directions when lost — not going to happen, and it takes a long time before it happens if it ever does. Probably not a good example, but work with me here.

One question I was asked in a recent e-mail:
So you’re together for three years, and then you go on a 15-month tour. What do you guys talk about?
Julie

My answer is simple. When you’re married, don’t you talk to your wife while you’re at the breakfast table or at dinner? Well, if you don’t then you’re missing a key element to a successful marriage — open communication. In a heterosexual way, this is somewhat like a marriage. These men live and breathe with each other. If a man hurts or is down, we try to reach out and talk. The man next to you is not just responsible for having your back when outside the wire, but he’s responsible to look out for you when you’re inside the wire too. We lean on each other more and more every day as we get closer to go home. Many men are coming home to nothing, and it is hitting home. In reality, the men around them are all they have.

We don’t all get along; it’s not a secret, but the marriage, or shall I say the brotherhood, covers that. When I look around and I see my best friends — Simco, James, Staff Sgt. Reeves as well as my roommate, Bill — I know these people will be there, and I can trust them and know that they will be loyal. We are men taken away from our loved ones, and what you have next to you is all you have to get through the patches.

The next statement may be taken out of context, but I assure you if you were here and dealt with the things we have dealt with you would understand. Every so often you will see two buddies either sitting or just walking from one place to another and one guy will have his arm on the other guy’s shoulder. This conduct can be misunderstood, but it shouldn’t be. The other day while waiting for a patrol I was looking down the way, and I saw to guys walking through the moon dust. One guy was a lot taller than the other, and he had put his hand around the little guy’s shoulder. They walked that way for a while back to the trucks. Both had their heads down, and they were having a conversation. As they got closer, I heard the end of the conversation. “Man, we are only almost there, almost home.”

I heard that and just thought people may not understand what this place does to you and how much men lean on each other. Some men are not comfortable with that form of expression, but that’s nothing new. I learn every day the importance of having a good support group, because personally, as the days get closer, I am going through many emotions myself and having someone there who has been where I have and seen what I have seen makes sharing so much easier and has started the healing. The song that best represents how I am feeling at this moment is a song by Bon Jovi — “Bells of Freedom.” If you play it while reading this, it will all make sense, and you’ll quickly feel me.

The days are getting shorter, and the anticipation for coming home grows each day. I can’t wait to smell the fresh air and the freedom of America the great. Until then, I keep the hope.

Comments

[Cathy B]

Once again, many thanks to all of you for the arduous work performed during this exhaustive extended tour. Almost there- safe travels home!
Cathy B

[Lesli Taylor]

Hey, thanks for sharing. Thank you for making it real to those of us (like myself) who have no clue!!

Les

"One Nation Under God"

~Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American G.I. ~ One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.~