Welcome Home

The interaction that has stuck in my mind the most occurred when I was arriving in Chicago after my flight in from London. I was going across the border at O’Hare with my passport and declaration form in hand. I stepped to the counter and the agent took both from me and started his examination.

“Afghanistan? Are you in the military?” he asked.

“No, I’m a civilian contractor supporting the military.”

“Welcome home…”

I’ve been out of the country quite a few times now. From spending 20 days in Korea to 3 weeks in Europe, but no one has ever said welcome home to me when I came back. In all the transaction lasted less than 60 seconds but it stands as one of the most moving experiences I’ve had.

It’s been about a week since I stepped back onto US soil but those 60 seconds still resonate in my mind. The feeling is something akin to someone telling you that they love you and knowing that they really mean it. It sends a strange warmness through you, especially when it comes from a complete stranger. I feel like someone outside your circle actually does care.

I’m sure the chemical reaction that occurs in your brain when something like that happens really is like a drug. Suddenly there is this surge of dopamine that fills your brain with good feelings, minus that needles and physical addiction part of it. The closest comparison I can think of is the feeling of finishing a marathon.

It’s that rush you get when you see the finish line, hundreds of cheering people line the path to the end and suddenly there is this resurgence of energy where you’re able to push passed the pain. It’s the reason why I continue to run marathons, for that last 100 yards and it’s the reason why I want to go back out, for that welcome home.

11 Hours and Counting

It was 7 days ago that I left my site in Helmand, Afghanistan, 3 days ago I left our main hub to the north and 1 day since I left Kandahar. In the past week I’ve changed from day shift, to night shift, back to days and now I’m not sure when I should be sleeping or awake. My circadian rhythm is messed up like an MC Escher piece.

I’m in the executive lounge at London Heathrow waiting for my next flight with 20% battery left on my laptop and no means of charging it since my charger is in my checked luggage. At one point all I was carrying was my laptop, but I got tired so I bought some stuff so I could put the computer in the bag. And that’s how my little nephew became the new owner of a stuffed camel from Dubai.

I can’t say that it’s hard leaving this time around. You don’t really realize how nice it is not to be surrounded by rifles and camouflage until you’re not surrounded by rifles and camouflage. Now when I look around all I see are people living their happy little lives, taking for granted how fortunate they really are not to have real problems to deal with.

Yet, I still can’t help but smile when I catch a whiff civilization. The porta-potty stink is replaced with air fresheners, the body odor is replaced with deodorant. I just hope I’m not carrying any of that Afghan funk with me, however that would explain why everyone is looking at me all funny, although it could also be my bloodshot eyes or my messed up hair that hasn’t been cut in close to 3 months.

But I keep a sense of pride given the fact that I just walked out of the newspaper headlines. Not that they were about me, but they are about the places I’ve been. In the waning days of my deployment I started meeting some of the Marine Corps grunts that we’d been supporting, the guys on the ground actually taking the fight to the enemy. These were the guys whose friends were in the obituaries back home. They’re the ones who saw those newspaper photos first hand.

I got to talk to them about us watching them from the sky and they told me about what they saw on the ground… Battery warning, I’ll have to continue this later…

And I’m back… I’m at Chicago O’Hare, about 10 hours since I left off, waiting for my flight back to Saint Louis. I got impatient waiting for my laptop to charge so I pulled it at 33%. We’ll see if I can finish up this time…

They were as excited to meet me as I was to meet them. It’s like finding a pen pal and finally meeting them after months of writing. I could finally put a face to the little figures I watched from 3,000 ft up. I heard stories put to the videos I saw and they got to hear about what we were seeing from way up high. It was a great experience and kind of serendipitous given that I saw them while I was on my way out.
So here I sit, at my gate, the only thing holding me from my own comfy dust-free bed is an airplane ride and a baggage carrousel stop. My 90 lbs backpack is probably snaking its way through a series of conveyor belts as I type and my plane is probably rolling down some taxiway. The only care in my world is whether or not I’m going to go back for more…

Tough to Let Go

Its 11:10 PM here right now, I’ve been brought back to the hub in preparation for my end of tour. Even though there are only 7 more days left before I’m getting off the plane in Saint Louis, I’m still having trouble letting go of the site I created.

I told my theater lead and my manager that Big D was my baby, and I wasn’t lying. Yes, I’m excited to go home but I put a lot of work in that site. A lot of labor, thought and planning went into making it what it is now.

Starting with the foundation that our predecessors created, we shifted a lot of things around that weren’t optimally placed. We rebuilt the maintenance pad. We installed new solar netting to keep that pad shaded from the sun. We got 2 new containers placed for both morale and operations. All those things amongst the little things we did to make the environment better to work in and live in.

I went through multiple iterations of layouts, multiple ideas for what would be best and wrote plans for attacking each advance. I relied on my personnel to know what to do and relied on luck to have everything work out the way they needed to. Fortunately, everything worked out and despite some hang ups, everything usually went smoothly.

Now that I’m on my way out, I find myself wanting to make sure that the site has continued success. Back at the hub I find myself looking for things that we need down there and working on getting those things sent down. More aircraft, more equipment, more tools are just a few of the things. Its sort of like how a parent hopes that their children live better lives than they did, I want my predecessors to have an easier time than I did.

I had my run-ins with outsiders, even once being threatened with being kicked off the site by someone who had that authority. (I came to find out that he actually requested that I be removed but that’s another long story) Despite that I’m still vested in the success of that site. Even though I’m gone, I’m still accountable for the success of that site. I’ve realized that this is a recurrence in a lot of things I’m put in charge of.

The last system I was put in charge of, I felt the same way. My manager was worried that once I left things were going to go wrong, I had other plans. I made sure that everything I started, I finished. I made sure that everything I could do at the time was done before I left and ultimately they found that there was nothing left to do. I felt accountable for its success, even though I was leaving.

So here I am sitting on my last 7 days, doing everything I can to make sure that that site is successful in my absence. I’ve given my child all the elements for success, sent it through school and now it’s time to give it one last push before it has to take on the world without me.

My Venting Session…

I hope this actually makes me feel better. I’ve been walking around venting for the past hour because of what transpired this evening. Something that makes me feel a bit less secure about the intelligence level of our military leaders.

Don’t get me wrong, the past 6 months have been an eye opener. I’ve seen the poorest leadership I could have ever imagined in an area where you’d expect to see the best. I’ll tell you one thing, the great military leaders of old have long since passed.

I walked out of our maintenance connex, I’ll show you pictures when I get back, and I notice two higher level enlisted marines, one is a SgtMaj and the other a GSgt. I like the GSgt because he seems relatively intelligent and easy to work with. So anyway… I walk out and see them talking and notice the SgtMaj glance over at me and starts to go off about how our generators are not “aesthetically pleasing.” No joke, those are his exact words.

At this point, I realize he’s talking about MY site to the GSgt. So instead of waiting around for someone to come tell me to move something I walk over to their little conversation. He looks at me and starts telling me about how that is their “foyer” and if someone came down from the Camp north of us that it would be unsightly.

I bit my tongue… ohhh how I bit my tongue. I thought better about informing him that this is a combat zone and not his living room. I thought better about telling him that there isn’t a Bed Bath and Beyond down the road where I can pick up some flowers to make the place nice. I also stopped myself from asking him if he wanted me to sweep the sand off the ground too.

So anyway, I tell him that we’re working on getting heavy equipment to move one of our generators away because it isn’t functional.

“You need to push the other one closer to the container so it isn’t sitting in the middle of the (walking) path.” He said.

“We need to do maintenance on it and if it’s closer we can’t maintain it.” I respond.

“What maintenance?”

Here’s where I’m about 3 inches from losing it… “Changing the oil?” You stupid moron…

“Oh, well can’t you put these in line or something?”

“No… we’re getting the unusable one taken away…” or don’t you remember me saying that 30 seconds ago…
“What about that air conditioner that’s sitting over there?”

BACKGROUND: 4 hours prior to this little talk we pulled an a/c out of one of our containers that arrived yesterday. It fell out of the wall and we put a new one in. So it had been sitting there for… oh… less than a few hours.

“My night crew guys are going to take care of it…”

“Oh, well it’s just not aesthetically pleasing…”

I thought, well, I’m sorry that you’ve been sitting behind a desk your entire career but I’m sure the area around said desk is very pleasing. Do you own any books on fung shui?

There were a few other things that I won’t mention because it’s not my place. I’m a civilian and have always been. But I did tell one of my former infantry friends about what those things. He’s actually had to fire his rifle at the bad guy, unlike our friendly neighborhood SgtMaj. So anyway, allow me to continue…

“Just relax, we’ll get it all straightened out.” I respond.

“Don’t tell me to relax, I am relaxed.”

I’m looking this ogre straight in the eye and respond… “Just relax…” in my calm voice…

“When you say you’re going to move it I want it done now, not a month from now…”

“We’re coordinating HE (Heavy Equipment), you know how difficult it can be to get them.”

“Yeah but just get it done.”

“Okay.” I say, hoping he hears the absolute disrespect in my voice.

Then he walks away… I pat him on his back as he walks past me just for good measure and walk off… Fuming…

Sad Farewells

In the past few weeks the unit I’ve been working with, VMU2, for the past 6 months has been turning over to the new unit, VMU3, which just arrived. I’ve been told that it’s rare that the marines have to say good bye to the contractors. What makes things even more difficult is that most of them are saying that we are the best crew of contractors that they’ve worked with.

I came into country about a month after VMU2 arrived. Since then I’ve basically cohabitated with them, at one point even staying in the same tent. We ate together, we played together and we essentially lived together for over 12 straight hours a day. The only time I didn’t see them was while I was sleeping and that was because we stayed in different places. I don’t even think married people spend that much time with one another and thus from these long hours we developed a type of bond that very few people share.

You start sharing stories with each other that you don’t tell other people. You open yourself up more than most people do in their regular relationships. Someone will start into a personal experience and after they’re finished someone else has something similar to share. It’s like the story book opens and it’s written in 50 point font with someone.

Now that VMU2 is leaving, I guess I can equate what I’m feeling right now to losing loved ones. The days are bland and boring kind of like the days after breaking up with someone. Even though I can go eat dinner instead of going to the gym with my friend, the food isn’t even as good as it use to be because the company is no longer there. There’s only one other person who’s been here as long as I have and the change is noticeable in him too.

It’s just been an ongoing barrage of handshakes and hugs. It seems like every hour there’s someone else to say goodbye to. And despite the trading of phone numbers, facebook pages and email addresses, deep down inside you know it’s probably going to be the last time you see them. One of my friends said “You know how people say they want to keep in touch but they don’t? Well, I really want to keep in touch.” Unfortunately I’ve never had an experience where people so far apart, living such different lives have been able to successfully keep in touch without a great deal of effort from both sides.

I realized last night that more than likely in less than 2 years all the people I’ve met here and befriended will become little more than familiar faces. Those movie script clichés where you say “Don’t I know you from some where?” when you see them out in public. We’ll all go on to live our regular lives. But if we’re fortunate enough, fate will bring us together when we least suspect it and if our friendship was truly as strong as I believe it is, we won’t follow the script.

Another Cold Morning

The temperatures have dropped substantially in the past few weeks. The mornings are particularly frigid. The sprint from our tent to the showers has become like an Olympic event with the threat of hypothermia looming like grim death. I’m no longer greeted by the sun after my 5:30 wake up call. My focus went from getting back to the tent in time so as not to miss chow to getting back to the tent in time to so as to not shiver all my calories away. This morning the focus was different. I started to consider the things I’ve learned since being out here and the changes I’ve made to myself and hoped that those changes wouldn’t fade when I got home.

It had become readily apparent to me that in the years after college I had changed. I’d lost a lot of my social abilities, what little I had I mean. Nonetheless, I became a person who’d rather sit at home while life went on outside. Before, I was out there, meeting and greeting, making new friends on a regular basis. Then I got a 9 to 5, I became complacent with the group of friends I had and gave up on meeting new people. I recall once saying “I don’t care what they think, I have enough friends.” That wasn’t something I would say before.

I attributed this change to maturing, to becoming an adult. But that was more or less a cover for what was actually happening. I was afraid that the social flexibility I once had was gone, slowly fading away with every hour I spent sitting at home alone or sitting at work silently prodding away at a document or computer system. The monotony of the “real world” was eating away at my soul and devouring who I was. That does sound a bit dramatic doesn’t? It really isn’t that bad but that was the climax of the story and now comes the grand conclusion.

Being out here has been a catalyst for recognizing my devolution and subsequently the deconstruction and rebuilding of my self. I feel like I’ve regained my flexibility and desire to meet new people. The fire inside me that burned like a furnace as been rekindled and is burning again. Now lets see if I can keep the coals hot.

The Closing Days

As my time here in the desert comes to a close I’m forced to decide on my next course of action. I’ve been asked a few times what I’m going to be doing after this. In my mind I have a couple options, try to find another job or not to try and redeploy sometime in the near future. Initially my intentions were to go out on 2 deployments, one land based (this one) and another ship based. I’ve heard the ship based ones can be a lot of fun, a lot more fun that then desert anyway.

I had a few goals for coming out here. First was to come out here and see first hand what our brave men and women are going through. Second was to see the country that has been so ravaged by war throughout its history. Third was to advance in the company and coming here seemed like a good way to pick up a couple new skills.

Of course nothing is for sure. I have pinged a few of my old managers and co-workers about job opportunities back home. That was my “try” to get another job and honestly if nothing works out, I’ll just redeploy. I’m fine with either direction. Life out here is pretty easy and fun. My only hesitation is the fact that I won’t be working with this team again and probably not even the same marines that I’ve been working with. I’ve been very fortunate with the situation I was put in.

So, what will I do after this deployment is over? Odds are if I find another job these blog posts will end. There just won’t be much interesting to talk about anymore, not while sitting behind a desk all day. But really, in order to fulfill my goal, I’d need to get a promotion with my next job move, which is unlikely. If I stay with this job I’ll probably get promoted with my next assignment, or at least fight as hard as I can to be promoted. Trouble is, if I stay in this job to long I’ll get pigeon-holed and be stuck for good and that’s just not good. I guess this is one of those, “know when to fold’em” situations. I've pretty much reached the peak of my ScanEagle career as the lead for a relatively successful hub.

I’ve never been someone to deny a door opened by opportunity. Who has two thumbs and likes opportunity? THIS GUY! Sorry, couldn’t help it. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if another program says “Hey Jeff, why don’t you come work for us?” I’d probably respond “Sure, just let me return my flak and Kevlar and I’ll be right there.” It would be tough, I enjoy this job more than any job I’ve ever had. I guess, like anything, I’ll just let fate decide for me and go with whatever happens.