There exists within me a fire that burns brightly, and yet I always feel compelled to shy away from the reality of its own existence, too scared to grasp its light and escape this boredom.
Self-taught from an early age, I actively pursued the lies of the righteous, immersing myself within the spiritualized rhetoric of civilized society, never realizing that beneath its very vanilla white surface lay a darker meaning. It wasn't until I decided to claim my life for myself, that things finally got interesting. However, as with all things; I had to learn about it the hard way.
The flash of light blinded us all for but a brief moment before the horror of the event filled our senses, engulfing each member of the fire team within a chaotic spasm of blood, gore, and ungodly cries for help.
Echo company had just returned from a morning recon of the neighboring tribal areas and was sitting down to some early afternoon MREs and cigs...you can't deny the power of that combination: shitty slop served cold followed by a wonderfully warm piece of nicotine. Everyone smokes out here, as there is no other means to ease our collective stress and fears.
I had just sat down with Steve, John, Jason and George...my little group of combat cohabitants...and fellow groms from Cali, when they hit us.
The first RPG struck the friendlies stationed at the gate; spreading shrapnel, body parts, and the ever present lung-clogging dust all over the encampment. Our group instantaneously took cover, as the motor shells began to rain down upon us.
"Fucking shit! Return Fire...East 10 clicks...We need air cover NOW! I want a fire line over on the East bag NOW!"...yelled our company commander. He was an academy grad, fresh out of combat school and a bit unschooled in the finer methods of Duck-and-Cover yer own ASS!
While he screamed his orders at the rest of us, I silently escaped within my mind and turned my thoughts, as I always did, to the crisp cool morning socal sessions at the point. I found that it help to ground myself, motivating me to stay calm and focused amongst the shit storm of combat. I grabbed my fire stick and moved in unison with my buds towards the eastern wall, hitting the ground whenever a blast of earth exploded nearby.
My fire team took up position and began snapping off rounds in the general direction of what we thought was a good place to lay down fire...at least it felt good to be alive and firing back.
"God Dammit, get me my air cover NOW...NO, not at those coordinates...FUCK! Give me the con!"...screamed our fearless leader.
It's always the same...you sort of go on auto-pilot; feeding off the energy of the moment while hoping that all your training and all of those never-ending drills will keep you alive for just one more day...at least this is what you do outwardly.
Inwardly, within one's own mind, you try to find a safe place...a calmness to guide you through the chaos happening around you. No one comes out unaffected.
Self-taught from an early age, I actively pursued the lies of the righteous, immersing myself within the spiritualized rhetoric of civilized society, never realizing that beneath its very vanilla white surface lay a darker meaning. It wasn't until I decided to claim my life for myself, that things finally got interesting. However, as with all things; I had to learn about it the hard way.
The flash of light blinded us all for but a brief moment before the horror of the event filled our senses, engulfing each member of the fire team within a chaotic spasm of blood, gore, and ungodly cries for help.
Echo company had just returned from a morning recon of the neighboring tribal areas and was sitting down to some early afternoon MREs and cigs...you can't deny the power of that combination: shitty slop served cold followed by a wonderfully warm piece of nicotine. Everyone smokes out here, as there is no other means to ease our collective stress and fears.
I had just sat down with Steve, John, Jason and George...my little group of combat cohabitants...and fellow groms from Cali, when they hit us.
The first RPG struck the friendlies stationed at the gate; spreading shrapnel, body parts, and the ever present lung-clogging dust all over the encampment. Our group instantaneously took cover, as the motor shells began to rain down upon us.
"Fucking shit! Return Fire...East 10 clicks...We need air cover NOW! I want a fire line over on the East bag NOW!"...yelled our company commander. He was an academy grad, fresh out of combat school and a bit unschooled in the finer methods of Duck-and-Cover yer own ASS!
While he screamed his orders at the rest of us, I silently escaped within my mind and turned my thoughts, as I always did, to the crisp cool morning socal sessions at the point. I found that it help to ground myself, motivating me to stay calm and focused amongst the shit storm of combat. I grabbed my fire stick and moved in unison with my buds towards the eastern wall, hitting the ground whenever a blast of earth exploded nearby.
My fire team took up position and began snapping off rounds in the general direction of what we thought was a good place to lay down fire...at least it felt good to be alive and firing back.
"God Dammit, get me my air cover NOW...NO, not at those coordinates...FUCK! Give me the con!"...screamed our fearless leader.
It's always the same...you sort of go on auto-pilot; feeding off the energy of the moment while hoping that all your training and all of those never-ending drills will keep you alive for just one more day...at least this is what you do outwardly.
Inwardly, within one's own mind, you try to find a safe place...a calmness to guide you through the chaos happening around you. No one comes out unaffected.
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