As life continues on the ship their are many final preparations to be made. The date of our departure is drawing uneasily closer. I must say that regardless of what waits for us on shore we are ready to get off of the ship. Tempers flare at simple jokes. Fights break out daily. It has tried the patience of everyone, and the living conditions alone have made this the hardest thing that I have ever done. It seems that these are the trying times that plant the seeds of what kind of men we are to become. Some will leave with a hidden anger, and others with an appreciation for the life that we lead back home.

People are withering away. The nights are extremely cold, and the days just as uncomfortable. Even on calm days the sand blows in your eyes and between your teeth. I found myself getting angry and irritable with constant discomfort. I don’t complain, because we are all feeling the same. But it is those conditions that irritate me, that cause me to slow down, breathe, and say, “Patience.”

We did not have to see the combat that came before us to know what happened in AnNasiriyah. We could see it in the faces of the people who walked these war torn streets.

“These were the streets where calloused men walked, shrouded women worked, and curious

children played. They were lined with trash and the cloud of flies to condensed to see through.

The power lines like spider webs hanging over these beautifully sad streets.”

I remember sitting in a smoke filled room with the ceiling fan hanging over my head by a single wire. It was dark inside and a crowd that had been following us the last couple of blocks were outside cheering and yelling. Little Arabic men had piled grenades, mortars, and anti aircraft munitions at our feet. The sweat rolled of our faces onto our chemical suits. A cleancut young man in a gown approached me in my corner. “Excuse me mister.” I looked up at this man who was staring me in the eye. He was only inches away from my face. I took off my helmet and smiled back at him. “I would like to introduce myself.” I was surprised that this young man spoke good English. After the introductions he asked me a haunting question. “Why did you kill my friend?”

There are many gray areas during war. You look back now and can think of a hundred things that you could have done better. It’s pointless to think about these things. The truth is that no one can ever know what it is like. You have to be in that situation at that time to be able to fit all the multiples in to place. Fear, pain, confusion, women, children, rooftops, noise, other marines, and the list goes on. So many things to think about in one second. You are so afraid, that fear becomes your companion. There is a transformation. I can’t explain it you just have to experience it. It was a transformation of survival. The only right thing that takes precedence over anything in your mind is getting everyone home.

“We sat together around a makeshift table in the poorly lit tent. We toasted each other, and we toasted ourselves. We told stories and laughed like there was no tomorrow and for us there wasn’t one. In the shadow of the uncertainty of war, in that uncertainty life became hypnotic, and beautiful.”

Now as I think of that I know that there was nothing to be afraid of. Time moves on and in essence our control over anything is limited. It is as it is with any great journey. The hardest part is turning away from the starting line and facing the horizon. If only these realizations had come sooner then the whole float would have been easier. I would have been able to let go and cast my ship away from that pier with a broader perspective. So as it is with life, a lesson learned and taken to heart.