I tend to keep my thoughts and feeling to myself. Other then with Firefly I don't tend to share things because I don't trust people with them. I guess if I am being honest, I am afraid of being hurt and hurting others. But here is the best part...people don't have to read this blog if they don't want to. As for me, I think it will be good to kick open some of the locked doors in my head and open a few windows.
So, here goes.
Therapy 101, part 1
The plane landed in Kuwait in the late afternoon. The several hour flight from our home in Germany was finally over and had to be the most uncomfortable flight I've ever been on. Imagine being crammed on a cross-Atlantic flight in the dreaded 3,5,3 configuration and having to sit with your knees in your chest for the entire flight. Our weapons and gear were where our feet would go and so our feet had to be on top of it all.
We had to check all pocket knifes but were allowed o take are weapons, including my machine gun, on the plane. We of course had to run them through an x-ray machine first!
After we landed in Kuwait, we then had to sit on the tarmac for another four hours (knees still to chest) for a possible bomb to be investigated and removed. Turns out it was just a suitcase that was somehow left out on the taxi way.
We deplaned and boarded a small, hot 30 person bus for a bus ride through Kuwait city. I know we were headed to war and all but man, I wish that bus would have at least had padded seats. I kept dozing of in the heat so I’m not sure how long the bus ride was but I think it was around an hour or so.
It was dark when we arrived at our staging base and had to find a place to bunk down till morning. We finally found an empty tent and our platoon tied to get some sleep on the dusty bare floor. A short while we were told "the higher ups" had a different tent for us. It turned out the other tent was on the other side of the camp. We loaded up our ruck sacs, gathered our two duffel bags, gear and weapons and slowly made our way the mile or so to the new tent through the ankle deep moon-like dust.
Another solider decided he was tired of carrying his gear so he decided to steal a cargo truck so he wouldn't have to walk anymore. The rest of us seized the chance to also lighten our load and tossed our gear onto the truck as quickly, and quietly as we could.
Almost as soon as we made it to the new tent, the alarms went off and we ran for the nearest bunker. The sirens meant one thing and one thing only....the base was under attack. Scud missiles had been launched at us and we were helpless to defend ourselves. If a missile were to hit the base near us, we would be killed. Death would come either by being gassed or from some sort of biological agent within the missile....