Last Saturday, July 28th 2007, I was sitting around watching TV, having my usual sleeping problems and then I heard a big boom. A few of us ran outside, climbed to the roof to see what was going on, and there we saw the sky lighten up in the horizon at the nearby American FOB. Apparently, the FOB had a mortar attack close to their Ammunition Holding Area. I sat down on the roof of our building while I had an eerie feeling taken over me and making my skin crawl with hopelessness.
The FOB is so close that—from the roof—we could even see the lights of the emergency vehicles that were going to the area. The fire in the sky was bright; it almost looked as if the sun was going to rise from the FOB itself. I have never seen anything like it thus my amazement was uncanny and the realization that I am in Iraq, in the war zone, vulnerable to the enemy, sank into my cerebral matter with the speed of light.
After watching the light display and wishing that there were no casualties—since it was 2 am—I went back to the TV. The stations were broadcasting an emergency message at the bottom of the screen telling people to take cover; WOW!!! Take cover!!! I had only seen those messages ran for hurricanes and tornados. Now, I read them to know if I have to take cover from a mortar attack.
Do not get me wrong, the base we are in is fairly safe, but this is war…nothing is safe. That is the lesson I took away from that night; never let your guard down because as comfortable as you are, you are still in the middle of the war.
Trace asked me if I am going to be ok when I come back home from the war, my response is still the same; I do not know. I do not know what other things I am going to witness while I am here. I do not know how close I am going to be to the next attack. I do not know if I have to help respond to an attack. I do not know if I have to see people hurt, scream in agonizing pain or even die. I do not know if I will not get to see any of that, therefore I do not know how I am going to be when I get back.
The FOB is so close that—from the roof—we could even see the lights of the emergency vehicles that were going to the area. The fire in the sky was bright; it almost looked as if the sun was going to rise from the FOB itself. I have never seen anything like it thus my amazement was uncanny and the realization that I am in Iraq, in the war zone, vulnerable to the enemy, sank into my cerebral matter with the speed of light.
After watching the light display and wishing that there were no casualties—since it was 2 am—I went back to the TV. The stations were broadcasting an emergency message at the bottom of the screen telling people to take cover; WOW!!! Take cover!!! I had only seen those messages ran for hurricanes and tornados. Now, I read them to know if I have to take cover from a mortar attack.
Do not get me wrong, the base we are in is fairly safe, but this is war…nothing is safe. That is the lesson I took away from that night; never let your guard down because as comfortable as you are, you are still in the middle of the war.
Trace asked me if I am going to be ok when I come back home from the war, my response is still the same; I do not know. I do not know what other things I am going to witness while I am here. I do not know how close I am going to be to the next attack. I do not know if I have to help respond to an attack. I do not know if I have to see people hurt, scream in agonizing pain or even die. I do not know if I will not get to see any of that, therefore I do not know how I am going to be when I get back.
