13F3OL7
02-26-09, 02:04
I had an assignment to write an English paper about any single experience that I have gone through. I chose to write about losing a friend of mine. I thouht that since today is the third anniversary of his death it be appropiate to post in his memory.
It was February 26, 2006. The time was around 0830, maybe a little later than that in the morning. I had already been up for an hour or two by this point. I distinctly remember not wanting to get out of bed that day, almost as if I knew something bad was going to happen. Even though I didn’t want to, I still got out of bed that morning because I knew we had a mission to accomplish. That and what else are you going to when you are off at war?
As I prepared for the days mission I began to grab the things that had become habit to take along on patrol. Things like my iPod, which was hooked up to the vehicles intercom system, water. I also began to pick up the things that were necessary, such as my M4 carbine, body armor, helmet, and any other instruments of war that I needed.
I had been down at the Stryker and prepared it for the upcoming patrol and was waiting for my friend who also happened to be my driver. You can’t really take your vehicle out without someone to drive so I sent someone to check on him, to make sure that he was up and on his way.
Turns out he did not want to get out of bed that day either. But because he was a good soldier he got ready, because he knew he had a job to accomplish.
Everyone is finally ready to go. As we are leaving the wire I put “Truthless Heroes” by Project 86 on the intercom so we have a little music to break the monotony of driving through Mosul, Iraq. As we’re circulating through our company’s battle space before we go up to Al Kindi on the Northeastern side of town, so the snipers can test fire their weapons and so I can shoot my M2 .50 cal machine gun, we begin talking about different things, such as whether we think a female we passed looks good, a common past time being away from wives and girlfriends, to our smelling what we think is a fuel leak in the vehicle. Talking about the fuel leak would be our last conversation.
As we neared our destination at Al Kindi, I decided to briefly duck down inside my commanders hatch to change the album playing. Partly because it was nearing the end and also because I knew my friend wasn’t a big fan of heavy music where it’s more shouting than actual singing. It was at that moment that the IED detonated destroying the entire front end and killing my friend in the driver’s seat instantly.
Immediately after the Stryker slammed to the ground with enough force to break six of the eight axles I began to call over the radio, “any station this net this is B71, we’ve been hit by an IED. I repeat, we’ve been hit by an IED.”
No training you go through can ever prepare you to see your friends body hanging halfway out of his hatch with blood streaming down the front of the vehicle or having to tell his best friend that he is dead and watching that friend begin to cry and curse the very people we were trying to help make a better life for themselves.
I guess all of that was to say that war and losing friends is hell and nothing will ever change that.
It was February 26, 2006. The time was around 0830, maybe a little later than that in the morning. I had already been up for an hour or two by this point. I distinctly remember not wanting to get out of bed that day, almost as if I knew something bad was going to happen. Even though I didn’t want to, I still got out of bed that morning because I knew we had a mission to accomplish. That and what else are you going to when you are off at war?
As I prepared for the days mission I began to grab the things that had become habit to take along on patrol. Things like my iPod, which was hooked up to the vehicles intercom system, water. I also began to pick up the things that were necessary, such as my M4 carbine, body armor, helmet, and any other instruments of war that I needed.
I had been down at the Stryker and prepared it for the upcoming patrol and was waiting for my friend who also happened to be my driver. You can’t really take your vehicle out without someone to drive so I sent someone to check on him, to make sure that he was up and on his way.
Turns out he did not want to get out of bed that day either. But because he was a good soldier he got ready, because he knew he had a job to accomplish.
Everyone is finally ready to go. As we are leaving the wire I put “Truthless Heroes” by Project 86 on the intercom so we have a little music to break the monotony of driving through Mosul, Iraq. As we’re circulating through our company’s battle space before we go up to Al Kindi on the Northeastern side of town, so the snipers can test fire their weapons and so I can shoot my M2 .50 cal machine gun, we begin talking about different things, such as whether we think a female we passed looks good, a common past time being away from wives and girlfriends, to our smelling what we think is a fuel leak in the vehicle. Talking about the fuel leak would be our last conversation.
As we neared our destination at Al Kindi, I decided to briefly duck down inside my commanders hatch to change the album playing. Partly because it was nearing the end and also because I knew my friend wasn’t a big fan of heavy music where it’s more shouting than actual singing. It was at that moment that the IED detonated destroying the entire front end and killing my friend in the driver’s seat instantly.
Immediately after the Stryker slammed to the ground with enough force to break six of the eight axles I began to call over the radio, “any station this net this is B71, we’ve been hit by an IED. I repeat, we’ve been hit by an IED.”
No training you go through can ever prepare you to see your friends body hanging halfway out of his hatch with blood streaming down the front of the vehicle or having to tell his best friend that he is dead and watching that friend begin to cry and curse the very people we were trying to help make a better life for themselves.
I guess all of that was to say that war and losing friends is hell and nothing will ever change that.