Desert Grains

A brief introduction on my time in Iraq with the Seventh Fleet Strike Nine 3rd Division Amphibious Assault Team

Desert Grains

                The year was 2002 I had just landed in Bahrain after flying seventeen hours two layovers one in Cyprus Greece and one to Naples Italy.  My mind tired, my eyes worn from starring out the window of the Military 747 trying to decipher where I was what my family was going through knowing their only son was heading into war. I mind frazzled to say the least after my pre-departure briefing all my military identity, and training I was told to forget about them until I was firmly at our head quarter base.

                I just turned 18 away from any familiar comfort; now I was being rushed in into this civilian van with a man who spoke no English being told to blend as much as I could, not to bring any attention to myself or the unit I was with.

                As we drove through the city my eyes would catch glimpse of men in the bed of 1980 Toyota pickup trucks carrying AK-47 or SRK cruising through town.  The fear and excitement ran through me as the 110 degree temperature glazed the inside of our van. The driver sped through town honking his horn stopping only a few a times to what looked to check for street signs. After forty five minutes we arrive concrete barracks stacked one behind another like blank dominos, we slowly inch our way through the zig zag maze reaching the gate orders in hand I precede with my social, rank and unit number a flash of the ID and we are through.  The base was nice with an ancient feeling. The cobble streets wove around the three story buildings with tropical trees placed around.

 As a MH-53 Sea Dragon rumbled over my head. I would have no idea what I was getting into until the following morning. 0500 I am woken up the sound of morning colors ringing through base. It was all ready ninety degrees when from the distance the chant from the mosque rings across the eerily dead city. The hairs on my back stand up in total awe and shock, I now see that the battle I was about to fight goes deeper then guns, race, age or views it’s a battle of time and faith built of thousands of years a battle which will never be won. It’s been years since I have laid eyes on desert grains I am older now, a little wiser though the thought or the sound of hearing  the morning chants still raise the hairs on my head as I freeze in time going over and over the events of that past life.

 The silence one of being totally alone in the world where if you were to scream no one would hear your plight for mercy, it’s a tearful fear one where you not only can you feel the vibrations of each echo caressing your skin as it runs down your arms as though a stranger is holding your arms in total darkness you can feel the touch but you can’t put a face an expression to the fear you just know it’s there.  Though it will be six years this August since I have planted my feet in desert grains, I still feel very close to that life. Every year when the summer winds come breezing through with the dry heat of warm seasons I get a flashback and for a second I go back into that land where the surviving was the easy part. Getting out alive was the real challenge.

 

Reviews

[Caleu Andrade]

Thank you Ryan, may you do both with Honor and Courage! Hoorah!!

[RyanM]

This really touched me, it's always been my dream to be a marine first and a writer second. It's inspired me to try harder and shoot for both, thank you so much