Last Man Standing

A couple days ago I started a post that I wasn’t able to finish. By the time I started it the time was nearly midnight and after about 15 minutes I decided that I was too tired to continue. Given a few days to let my mind stew over the intended contents of the prior post, I think that I understand better what I was trying to put down on paper at the time.

It was a beautiful night in Afghanistan. The temperature was probably around 65F and a cool breeze blew over us. This was a departure from what had been the norm, 90F with a blow dryer-like wind blowing dust into your face. We were sitting outside our tent on the last night for the last original member of our cigar group besides me.

I remembered when I first arrived in country when he and the site lead at the time stood waiting for us near the airfield. As we distanced ourselves from the engine blast of the C-130 I looked over and could tell they were Scan Eagle guys. He asked me how I knew, and I responded that we all dress alike. He laughed and said he could tell we were the ones they were looking for because it was all military guys and two dudes dressed in civilian clothing, one being an out of shape, pale white guy. It was a funny conversation, maybe one of those that you need to be there for.

But it was conversations like those that have been few and far between in the past few weeks, maybe even months. Those light-hearted nights when we talked about women and food have faded into something far more morale busting. Our nights are now more or less venting sessions where we gather in our small circle and complain about this person or that one. It’s these times that make me miss home more and more with every given day.

Before, the day felt like it ended. I felt like I was able to escape the country and all the frustrations encountered in the job. Now our days drag on late into the night. We get pounded during the day for various reasons and then we complain about it at night. The only real escape we get is when we crawl into our respective bunks and start a movie on our respective laptops. I always think it’s funny when you look around the tent after lights out and there are gentle glows coming out of every occupied bunk.

Then there was the night we had a few days ago, which was nostalgic. I haven’t laughed about stranger things since my first week here. Don’t get me wrong, we still had those moments where we vented but most of the evening was spent reminiscing about old times. I can’t say that I was surprised since it was one of our last days and no matter how bad things are the end is only one restful night of sleep away for him.

Now that he’s gone I find myself the last remaining member of the team that I started with. I have one other person who will sit out with me during the nights and smoke but he prefers cigarettes to cigars. The nightly anger sessions continue as they’ve always occurred and my only escape continues to be my own personal movie night while lying in my bunk waiting for my last night.