A Blue Sky
I wasn’t in when Afghanistan was the real deal. I was a relatively young boy when the US went into Fallujah and yet I read stories about it. I wanted to feel and live all that. I needed to wait for my turn. Anyway, my turn came and Western African deployments are in. Fuck it, fuck them IEDs and let’s lock and load.
I taste the sand, I taste that hot wind full of dust coming in my lungs. Embrace the sweat, the flies and being dirty. I get used to my red-hot gun in my hands and I love it. I rant, I usually tell how command is dumb and full of it. I live what I wanted, I experience it firsthand and I feel good.
Yet…
One day, a nice blue sky day. Not too hot, yet just warm enough. We’re in our FOB and the local army is with us doing our usual stuff. No patrols today, nothing to do for my sore body. I’m just smoking cigarettes enjoying that morning sun and counting the days left in deployment. Today is a good day, no AK went off.
I hear the sound of a helicopter. It is extremely unusual as ours must radio in before coming in and the local army doesn’t have helicopters. Yet, there’s the fucking sound of that helicopter. I feel that rush but yet I don’t really move and observe that blue sky.
Heli is coming in hot and everybody is kind of surprised and nothing happens from our side. It lands with a huge cloud of sand and dust. I squint and see the lateral doors open and people coming out.
I feel something is wrong and I guess I’m right because I see the first guy stumble and fall hard. He goes down hard. The others around him pay him no attention and stumble on their own.
No one moves. The sky is so blue today. I run and grab a stretcher and my bag with medical supplies. I can’t run fast enough.
I’m first on site and the helicopter just leaves while I’m trying to reach the passengers lying on the ground. They are full of blood. Dry blood. Torn up uniforms and clenched teeth.
I check them as fast as I can and I have buddies around me helping. No wounds. No open wounds.
They have those grotesque bulges on their bodies. They look like tumors.
IED blast.
Fuck.
I try and talk to them. Their truck triggered an IED pressure plate and the driver went into pink mist and they took the blast. Some are in better shape and some are not doing well.
I do my best. What is even my best?
I see that guy, he isn’t making any sound and I see fear in his eyes. We lock eyes and I understand him. He told me everything with that second where we locked eyes.
We put them in a truck and they went off to a campaign hospital.
I ate a salad of tomatoes and cucumber 15min later. I washed my hands 5 times because I had blood on them. Blood and sand aren’t easy to get off.
He died. I was congratulated officially. In front of all my regiment. A general or a colonel signed the official reward for me.
That day, the sky was blue like the day he died.
May you be at peace.
