Sometimes for a brief moment, I will forget that I am in a combat zone. My mind will drift off to a place 7,000 miles away. These moments are not that frequent and when they do occur, I know that they’ll soon be washed away by some moment reminding me that I’m in the ‘Stan.
For me these moments usually happen at night, when I’m surrounded by inky black darkness and an eerie quiet. I’ll look up and see a pitch black sky filled with more stars than I can count and the only noise that I hear is the hum of an air conditioner. I’ll gaze up at the vastness above my head and look at the cloudy shadows of the Milky Way. When I’m fortunate enough to get a moment it is often broken by someone or something.
There will be someone walking by with their red, green, blue (or God forbid one of the outlawed white) lights.
A helicopter will come swooping in out of the dark to refuel, reload, or drop someone off.
A C-130 cargo plane will fly in and land on the gravel runway 100’ away.
Our artillery cannons will suddenly fire and I’ll wait to see if they are firing an illumination round or if they are targeting the enemy off in the distance.
There could also be the ‘Giant Voice’ announcing something such as incoming casualties or something else.
During the day it’s not as easy to get these moments because everything reminds you that you are no longer home. From the hasty construction of the buildings to the seas of gravel everywhere to the never ceasing movement of large combat vehicles, nothing feels like home.
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