Airport 3

remembering ied, april 20th. sitting at airport after returning from deployment. call to katie (she is now with Dom)

It was early in the morning on April 20th, 2006, when our First Sergeant came to beat on our barracks door. Just five months into our Iraq deployment, our unit had sustained few causalities, but that morning had brought about more devastation than our entire tour combined. I rushed to get my uniform on and load the humvee. Our guntruck normally carried a .50 caliber machine gun in the turret, but the 240B machine gun was smaller and quicker to set up. We were rolling out the gate within 10 minutes, a cluster of armored Bradleys and guntrucks representing every platoon in our unit, on a recovery mission for a First Platoon patrol. An improvised explosive device, or IED, had detonated below their lead Bradley, destroying the right side of the vehicle and causing a fire to break out in the troop hatch and command turret.

By the time we arrived, several wounded soldiers had already been prepared for evacuation to the internationally secured Green Zone. I watched as the Bradley continued to burn, billowing black smoke and melting down into itself, before loudly being told to get my head down behind the turret gun shields. Insurgent snipers were known to not only engage soldiers in recovery operations, but film their exploits long into the aftermath of deadly situations, adding to their death tolls and creating cruel propaganda in the process. I remember ducking back down behind the turret shield, and scanning the line of rooftops across the field through the narrow opening for the barrel. I was still unaware of the condition of my fellow soldiers when the large tracked recovery vehicle arrived to tow the destroyed Bradley back to our Forward Operating Base. The maintenance team worked quickly, and the vehicle was prepped to move within an hour. It would not be until after arriving back in our motorpool, I learned the true extent of the attack earlier that morning. 

The driver had been in a difficult position, as he was unable to open his hatch. He suffered major burns across his upper torso, front and back, and so did those seated in the rear troop compartment. The fingertips of several soldiers had been melted down, as they attempted to escape our of the rear entry door and drag the wounded out with them. The ramp was not operable, or the driver had been unable to drop the ramp due to the extreme conditions. The gunner and track commander had suffered the worst injuries, each sustaining burns over the greater halves of their bodies. The gunner had, in fact, major burns across his entire body, and while he survived the evacuation and transport out of country, he was eventually taken off of life support at the request of his family. The Track Commander survived, but the process of recovering was slow, and undoubtedly painful.

Sitting here, in the same bank of chairs that I had sat awaiting my departing flight a little more than one year prior, I was feeling fortunate for being able to come home. To be healthy. To simply be alive. We had been given 30 straight days of leave after redeploying back to Fort Hood, Texas, and I had finally arrived at the Portland International Airport. It was an understatement, honestly, for there had been nothing I wanted more than to be here. I had not yet told my family I was home, so no one was coming to pick me up. My brother had picked up my truck from the terminal parking garage after I had left last December. In a way I was stranded, but then also, I really had nowhere to be, and there was a certain amount of privilege I had come to appreciate in being free of any sort of responsibility. For over a year, we had lived and breathed mission after mission, maintenance, and precious little down time. One of the first things I had wanted to do once I was back was to call Katie, with hopes of scheduling a simple date in order to get reacquainted in person. I decided to call Katie before my brother, just in case she was free right away.

"Chris? Oh my gosh! Hi!" She answered, after several rings.

"Hi Katie. Hope this isn't a bad time, how are you?" I offered, settling back into the hard plastic seat. "I just flew into Portland and figured I would call you first."

"Really? What about your parents? I'm sure they're anxious to know you're back home, and safe. We haven't talked in awhile, I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me."

"No chance, Katie."

"Riiiight."

"Hey, I was wondering if you might be free for a couple of hours. I'm in need of a ride, and maybe something decent to eat. What do you say? My treat," I had only recently started to learn how similar her responses sounded, her sincerity could be quite treasonous. There was no telling her regard for you in the words she chose, or the way she spoke them.

"Um, well, okay. Yeah, I think I can pick you up, I do have to meet Dom later today though. You understand, don't you?"

Her questions were bait, her principles eclipsed and shattered by the titles put upon her by Dominic, her most recent acquisition of a man. He had made an impression on Katie from their first meeting, a 'chance' affair orchestrated by her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Lauren.

"Sure, of course I do."

"Chris, please, you said you wouldn't do that. Be nice."

"What? I do, I do understand. Come on, I'm hungry! I will meet you in the baggage claim, you will have to come collect me. I'll be the tall, dark and handsome fellow in the corner." I tried to imagine her smile, but it was a faded memory to begin with.

"Okay, okay, I'm on my way. Bye!"

She did sound intrigued, if nothing else.