Monday Drive

Yesterday I went out on my first combat patrol. The majority of it was an uneventful bumpy ride through the Diyala suburbs, parts of which lie along a river that brings a surprising amount of life to an otherwise dead region of desert. Some places might as well be Vietnam, complete with palm trees and untamed vegitation.

As we were driving, the lead truck spotted two guys with assault rifles who went running into the village somewhere. Of course, we had to dismount and go check it out. Watching the ramp at the back of the vehicle open to reveal the reality outside my armored shell caused my heart to skip maybe half a beat. Before I knew it I was running up to the front of the convoy surrounded on both sides by very curious local villagers. We pushed everyone to one side of the street and provided a small perimeter near a small cluster of buildings with gates leading to private courtyards. I found myself instinctively scanning around corners, on top of roofs, through the gates, even into the crowd, trusting nothing. Oddly none of it seemed real to me, like I couldn't believe I was actually there. I wasn't nervous at all; actually, my calmness began to bother me because it felt like I should have been nervous, or at the very least anxious. I don't know if this feeling is common at the beginning or just unique to me.

The guys around me have been doing this for months; I've been doing it for days. The difference is apparent only through conversation though, since we're all concerned with the same basic desire for safety and survival. After a few minutes of walking around and talking to various townspeople, we quietly climb back into a cloud of relative safety and drive back to the base, silently thankful at the lack of excitement.