Confusion Replaces Order

Under the radioactive sting of the desert sun, we clutched our rifles against our bullet-proof chests and went searching for violent men. Like fighting moles in the arcade, we kept our hammers primed and waited for the enemy to pop up. We knew their tactics but we didn’t know whospecifically they would be.

Woman, children, men; many of them had a vendetta against us, who they saw as intruders -- they had an agenda against us warriors who had affronted ourselves against their faith. It’s been said that an AK47 rifle is easy enough for a child to use, and sometimes they do. Just like how a woman can strap a suicide vest to herself because she’s unlikely to be searched. Just like how an old man can creep to the street and dig a hole for burying a bomb.

But we marched on anyway, weary of ambushes or indirect fire. We rode in humvees just waiting for a roadside bomb to explode. We flew with helicopters, fearing rocket propelled grenades. Or we commandeered tanks with gut-worry about the cone-shaped charges that might shape steel into magma-spears and slice through our limbs.

This is modern war, and we did it, and we came home.

We felt numb though, after returning; unsure if this is where we really should be. Combat might sound scary but you learn the threats and you keep yourself alive. At the end of the day that’s all you could do. And if your buddies died? Well, f*** it -- pull yourself together because you’re needed with the rest of the team. Don’t get killed: that was our only mission.

And suddenly you’re in the U.S. and you feel alone. Confusion replaces order when you drive around without a pistol on your lap or a helmet on your skull. Uneasy worry takes the place of controlled calm when you enter crowded restaurants. Loneliness exchanges camaraderie when you’re around a bunch of distant friends and family who scratch their heads about the man or woman you’ve become. Rage switches with the rational mind when someone dares to speak poorly about what you’ve done and where you’ve been. Depression overcomes peace when, upon seeing your loved ones, you become guilty about your brothers and sisters who didn’t return too.

Welcome home, those that care about you will say at barbeques, graduations or the dive bar down the street. They’ll toss back a shot and smile and amicably smack your back when you sit beside them. It’s good to see you again, they’ll add.

But they don’t know that your journey is just beginning.

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