A subtle demeanor

March 05, 2005

I see these men walking through this warehouse.

I see them laughing and sleeping and playing various games.

Some battle the muddy floor with brooms. Others are carefully rolling and stuffing everything they have into duffel bags.

They walk across this floor thinking of home, thinking of what they need to do before rolling out of Baghdad next week, thinking of where they’ve been.

They bicker like brothers. And they love like brothers.

And they walk with a certain confidence. It’s a confidence in knowing they survived, that they helped stop mortarmen and bombers. It’s a part of them now.

Combat Infantry Badges are attached to almost every chest, an honor that can only be earned by the “Dogface soldiers” of the Infantry in battle. It’s a patch that’s envied by other branches of the army and coveted by those awaiting their chance to earn it.

Every medic in this building wears a Combat Medic Badge.

They earned those rare patches in moments of horror, running into fire to pull out a wounded soldier, treating the wounded while fighting a battle.

They’ve served with a gun in one arm and lifesaving bandages in the other.

Some battle bloody memories of Najaf that linger in their minds.

Others revived two men who were nearly dead, drowned in a sewage-filled canal.

Another inserted an intravenous needle into the arm of a soldier who was shot six times. He hit the vein first time while bouncing down a dirt road in a humvee speeding into Camp Taji on a black night.

The soldier is alive and well back in Arkansas.

For every one of those stories, there’s a handful of others. These are not the stories you’ll hear anyone tell. Those who have done these things don’t talk about it much. They say humbly that it was just their job.

Sure, there are war stories being shared. Mostly they’re humorous renditions of moments that have been embellished over time. The truly horrific and amazing moments are mostly kept inside. They’re not relived and glorified.

But you can see glimmers of those moments in these men.

There’s something in the walk of these soldiers. There’s a calmness, a subtle confidence.

It’s knowing that they’ve survived and helped others survive through their actions. It’s understanding that most problems are small and easily solved compared to fighting for your life. And it’s knowing they’re going home after a very long and very bloody year.

A couple of snipers just bounced by, laughing with each other and knowing their job of killing is done.

Most people won’t notice this subtle difference, this calm resolve. But it’s there, rooted in memories that will never fade.

Posted by Amy at March 5, 2005 04:49 PM