I'm sitting on a bus at Fort Benning before 7 am (but I've been up since 4 so I'm pretty awake) and I've been asked to write 16 facts about my life that are easily recalled. This, of course, got me thinking about my life as a whole. I truly know some amazing people. I don't know to what I owe the privilege of this knowledge, but I am so grateful that I do. The fact that I can call some of these people my friends astounds me. I am so incredibly blessed. I don't know why it takes an early morning epiphany to get me thinking about this stuff, but I certainly am glad that my brain follows a somewhat random thought process from time to time. As for Benning itself... same old show. TSIRT, rules, CBT, SERE, AGSRP, CIF, medical, TSIRT again. Once again we don't go to the range. (Makes sense for non-combatants to skip it, right?) The one exciting update? They've "renovated" the barracks. What that means for me? Everything is exactly the same EXCEPT instead of bay communal showers we now have a bay with a couple shower curtains and walls! Some semblance of privacy! Just when I had gotten used to the bay... oh, well. I certainly wouldn't want to go back now! |
Monday, December 3, 2012
Blog 12.3.2012-Benning
Blog 11.27.2012-leaving LA/address
Here I sit again. Different airport, same deal. I'm currently waiting for the first flight of this trip at an itty bitty Louisiana airport. This also happens to be the first delayed flight of my trip. At least the elevator music is doing its job of keeping me awake. I'm about to head to Georgia for awhile and then to my final destination for a few months. This deployment is a bit more emotional for me than my prior three. Chalk it up to this being the first one I haven't specifically requested or to a simple wanting to be home for the holidays after being gone so often in the past few years. Either way, I miss people already but I know once I get there and into the groove that there won't be any time for mixed emotions. I'm sure I'll fall right back in love with it like I have every time. A bunch of people have asked me for my address thus far... here goes! Brittany Reynolds I don't know how long it usually takes, but the boxes I shipped to myself got there in less than a week. I'm reasonably confident that will not consistently be the case, particularly with the holidays coming up, but feel free to write! Signing out for some stimulating crochet work--already slipping back into my deployment old lady habits--oh boy! |
Friday, October 5, 2012
#4
As a real quick update on life outside of deployment: back in February I left Japan and have been at Fort Polk, LA ever since. What a difference!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Operation Proper Exit Link
about in May:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkrDP8jl81c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XE9NjPDHNo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKDyF411DIE
Just still so moving.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Long overdue...
I have a new interesting pastime. Bug watching. Why? No particular reason other than perhaps an overabundance of time at inconvenient hours. That, compounded with pure and simple dedication and hard work, makes them currently interesting to me. As I type, there's an ant carrying a dead bug about one and a half times bigger than it. He has constantly met with struggles, yet her perseveres. Can't make it up over that stone? Go ahead a little further. Can't climb that rock? Try a different route. Weeds in the way? Though it may be farther, up and over.
And now a bird has stolen one of my hard working bug friends and eaten him. Ah, the circle of life.
29 MAY 2010
I have reached that comfortable point on deployment. I'm about halfway through, I've got a routine, I'm present in the moment. This is fantastic for being deployed (and those people here) and less fantastic for those who aren't with me. Once you're here and settled, it's just easier to lessen communication with those not present. I think this is true of many places, but maybe especially here. There are certain things I can't talk about, there are certain things I don't want to talk about, and there are certain things that people don't want to hear about.
And here's the even more dangerous part. I fit here. I want to come back. I'm just over halfway through, and already thinking about and wanting to come back. I know what I'm doing and I think I do it pretty effectively. This is different than so many opportunities I've had in my life or will have in my life. I don't know what all this means yet, but I do know that when I wasn't here I missed it, and I didn't really remember or realize how much until I came back. Anyone of you who has heard me talk about my previous deployments can probably attest to the frustrations and joys but ultimate love that comes with deployment for me. I often wish I was a better storyteller so as to truly paint a picture of what this experience can do for a person, but alas, I am not and cannot. I try, however, to use what I've been given to portray as much as possible.
So where does that leave me? My family? Friends? Life? I haven't figured that out yet; I'm just writing from the heart. I need to do (or feel like I'm doing) good in the world in order to be fulfilled. There is no room for complacency in my life.
1 JULY 2010
I am SO done with water. Water bottles, hydration, bleck.
2 JULY 2010 Frustrations and good feelings
I have been inundated with some awful messages the past couple of nights. Not awful in content, just awful in the stretching of our limits of emergencies. Frustrations galore. Non-emergencies in abundance. It's obvious that there's a drawdown happening in Iraq and an attempt at the abuse of our system by families who want their service members home as quickly as possible.
I've also been thanked three times over the phone tonight for what I do (atypical)--and offered dinner if ever the service member that I assisted is in Balad. There's such a strange balance to life here.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Two in One Day?
May 11, 2010
Today I sat in a crowd of people, sleep deprived and teary eyed, and stared at ten men in wonder and awe and later was able to shake their hands as THEY thanked ME for being here. What an honor to be in the same room as these men. What courage they have. You may ask why I'm having this reaction. Three words: Operation Proper Exit.
For those of you who are unaware of the meaning behind those three words, I'll explain a little further. I first heard of this program via an AFN commercial (hooah!), thought it was wonderful and a little scary, and never thought much beyond that (funny how one can completely tune out AFN commercials unless the word "Iraq" is used). Anyways, this is a closure program for wounded warriors.
I had employed Kirsten to attend with me because I didn't know how emotional it would be. Who wants to be a sobbing basket case by herself, after all? I am happy to report that, though I got teary eyed on a few occasions, I did not once cry. All of the credit for that can be placed on the ten, though. There was not one ounce of self-pity apparent to anyone in the crowd, just a concern for and dedication to fellow service members and the mission. They very matter-of-factly handed out information and threw in a little bit of comedy tour, too.
I watched each of the ten men stand individually and tell what had caused their physical injuries. Some looked physically normal and were (one will be returning to combat, probably in Afghanistan, soon), while others had lost various body parts, whether hands, legs, arms, or eyes. A few had been in comas for extended periods of time while their bodies healed. One told us that his parents were told that their son may never wake up from his coma, and if he did he'd never walk or talk again. Another's life sounded like a country song: woke up from a coma and his mama told him he lost his left arm and leg, his wife left him, and his dog had died. Someone else has had 66 surgeries thus far and has had to be reconstructed basically from head to toe, and is now enjoying the civilian world, getting an education, and wishing he could be back on the front lines. One had been through Balad before, though he didn't remember because of his injuries. When he returned this week the hospital showed him pictures of his innards from when he was med-evaced into and out of Balad.
All spoke about wishing they could have continued their mission, coming back to Iraq to keep promises to their troops, or the vast improvements that they have seen in the efforts in Iraq since they were last here. They spoke of patriotism, the love of their work, and faith. They thanked and encouraged those service members who are still here fighting for a cause that they feel justifies their missing limbs.
The floor was opened for questions and then the funny and down-to-earth heroes began talking about the real issues that the military is facing currently, not just physical ailments but especially mental ones: PTSD, suicide rates, how to help or at least try to help. There is no easy answer was the conclusion. Understand that it's difficult to seek help for something mental, especially when there's still more mission. Keep your eyes open. Always be there and willing to help.
How incredibly humbling.
A Month at Club Med
All trees lean in the same direction, as if beaten so often that they now must cower at the wind's howling force.
Two days ago, I was walking home from work and marveling at the beauty: blue skies, birds singing, and trees swaying in the breeze. Yesterday I walked home from work around the same time, fighting the wind that was furiously blowing dirt, dust, and who knows what else into my face. Once I reached my pod (living area), I looked over my shoulder. The far-reaching blue sky that I had enjoyed only the day before was replaced by vision limited by hazy white-yellow skies. This is not a dust storm; this is life.
Later in the day, I was awakened by a crashing clap of thunder that shook my room. Shortly after, I heard the rain commence, rapping loudly on our thin metal roof. Since previous experiences have taught me that this noise can mean either rain or mud falling from the sky, I decided to investigate. Carefully opening my door, I sniffed first: wet earth, mud, and dust storm. I then peeked a little further to see alligator-tear raindrops developing patterns on my dusty wooden steps.
When I awoke for work, I walked outside to find no evidence that there had been any precipitation. Since I work nights, my walk to work is generally dark, but tonight was different. So much dust still hung in the air that the reflection, from what I don't know, made the sky glow a dark purple. The hanging dust, sans dust storm, is truly an amazing sight to behold.
April 17, 2010
Butterflies have invaded Iraq. I don't know how or from where they come, but I'm not complaining. I've never been an overly big fan of butterflies; they're beautiful but thinking of them usually stops there for me. On my walk home from work, there is a path the size of a one lane road between a building and some tall concrete. This seems to be the butterfly hangout. As I walk, my feet disturb them from their ground perches and they climb into the air, thus creating a fluttering flurry of beautiful wings surrounding me. It's all very Disney movie-ish, but I like it.
In more grim news, as I mentally marveled about the butterflies and finished my walk home (via the bathroom, so as to prevent the almost inevitable wake up in the middle of my sleep as a result of hydrating), I had quite a scare. This was not your typical "on-deployment" scare, but probably made me more nervous than the base receiving indirect fire. Something hissed at me. There is a raised wooden path on the way to the bathroom (to prevent walking in the mud during rainy season, I presume), which is, apparently, the perfect hiding place for critters. All I saw was something dark dart back under the planks, directly under my feet. Naturally imagining this to be a snake, I did my best (purposeful, of course) hop, skip, and jump to the nearest non-wooded area. Had I not twisted my ankle twice on this deployment already, I would have leapt from the concrete, over the planks, and to the ground. As it was, I simply moved as quickly as possible in that direction and away from the offending creature.
April 25, 2010
There are some things I will never understand.
What thought processes must a child have to make him or her decide that the only way to live is to not live at all? To take one's life as an adult or even a teenager, while still beyond my realm of comprehension, seems to make more sense to me. Stress, work, bills. But a child... what overbearing burdens and circumstances must that child have felt or dealt with to instill only feelings of hopelessness? Why aren't children running away from home when they're upset, only to return by nightfall anymore (not that this is as safe as it used to be)? Why are life and society changing toward this fashion? I know there aren't really answers out there, though I'm sure opinions are plentiful. I definitely have my own. My heart aches for the stolen innocence of our children.
On a much brighter note, we just finished our 24 hours of volunteer recognition on the 24th of April, the last day of National Volunteer Week. Huge props out to Kirsten who planned and organized the whole thing!!! I think it was a success, especially for a deployment AND our first function. Granted, we didn't have as many people as we would have liked, but you never will in a deployment setting. There was a LOT of food, some volleyball and other games, some karaoke... although I missed most of the "fun" stuff so I could get some sleep, it sounded awesome!
May 4, 2010
As I type, there is a young airman in the next room witnessing the (lengthy) birth of his first child, a son. He's been in and out, checking in with us, practically bursting with excitement, power walking to the restroom, grinning like a child, waiting. It renders me nigh speechless that, although in this brown land of seeming desolation and war, something as natural and yet magical as child birth can bring families together no matter how far apart. What an honor to be part, in a miniscule way, of something so heartwarming. There is good in the world; sometimes we need reminders.
