I am told that the dust that floats above the ground like fog is from Iraq. It is a reddish-yellow. As it settles on the grayish-white Kuwaiti sand, you can see the difference. You can tell where the hummers have driven because it leaves gray white tracks. The dust storm has gone on like this for 2 days and shows no sign of ending any time soon. The harsh sun is behind its veil and the temperatures are in the cool 80s. It is the dust that is protecting us from the sun that is now only a yellow disk in the sky. I can feel the Iraqi dust on my face, and I notice that I drink
much less water.
A hospital is alive 24 hours a day, and today is no different. My day is busy, but there is a steadiness to it as if I've hit the right gear. Wouldn't you know that I would finally get in the groove on my last day here. I give my briefings and people scribble notes in the audience. This unit has paid to bring me here, and I hope they feel they got their money's worth. Later on, on the way to the mess hall, they thank me and I realize that I was able to make some progress and save some resources for the fight.
At the same time, I feel guilty. I don't know what to say to them. I will be with my family in about 24 hours. At the same time I am over the Atlantic Ocean having 'duck with lemon sauce' and maybe catching a movie, they will be lying in their racks over their gas masks and weapons. They will be immersed in that dust, trying to catch some sleep, and dreaming of home. I know what they would say to me, if I complained about the flight: "Do you need a hug?"
As we walk along in that dust in the light of that hidden sun, I'm lost in thought. All of the sudden I'm pulled back to the present. The "Big Voice" plays retreat. This is a series of bugle calls that come over the loud speaker as the flag is lowered for the day. Military are required to render honors, and, back in the States, some civilians (ex-military) will too. Back in garrison, in the States, some people hide indoors to avoid it.
Not here! These are some very, very proud Americans. Hummers stop and troops hop out full of energy. Security Guards step into the street. Everyone, everywhere snaps into facing the flag. Civilians, soldiers, contractors, every person within my range of sight, is animated to participate in the ceremony. I stand there breathing Iraqi dust in the foreign land of Kuwait and share a moment with thousands of American heroes. Americans who are currently changing the very face of the planet with their sacrifice. Not hundreds of heroes: thousands!
I'll let you in on a soft spot of mine. As I stood there with my hand over my heart, listening to the trumpet and facing the direction of the flag, a tear rolled down my cheek. I guess I let down my military bearing for a fraction of a second. I told myself I wouldn't let it happen. As a "downtown" paramedic, I've waded through a sea of chaos and seen more tragedies that I can count, but I rarely let a tear go. It was the gravity of the moment that hit me. America's greatness can be overwhelming sometimes. I will never forget that I had the privilege of sharing that moment with those wonderful troops: YOUR wonderful troops, America. Don't forget them, they are your troops.
"Out Here"
TRCNAK
I won't ever forget them brother or you, see you soon.
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