No fireworks on this 4th of July – One soldier’s story

I first met Andy back in 2001 when my family moved into our current home.  The street was full of emerging jocks, but he was always a bit out of place.  He was tall, gangly, and lacked the coordination of some of the other kids on the street.

But when the sun went down, everything changed.  The athleticism and coordination required by modern sports would give way to the cunning and strategy of Night Games - variations of Ghosts in the Graveyard, Capture the Flag, Flashlight Tag, and Airsoft.  Andy would win.  Again and again.

I sat down with him last night to chat about his interesting journey…

Even before he was out of diapers, Andy wanted to be a soldier.  The family sandbox was constantly filled with toy soldiers, and their basement played host to many battles between Lego soldiers and GI Joe figures. I asked him where he cultivated his love for the military and without hesitation, he began talking about his grandfather.  “Grandpa was a fighter pilot in the Navy.  On one of his testing missions, he lost control of his plane and needed to make an emergency landing.  At the last moment, he noticed a child in his landing path, swerved hard to the right, crashed, and died.  I heard a lot of stories about Grandpa and also admired what he did.”

Each summer, Andy’s parents would send him to Aviation Challenge in Huntsville, Alabama.  Andy participated in flight and ground combat simulations.  His team rarely, if ever, lost. 

Early in his teen years, Andy came to the realization that being a fighter pilot may not be attainable as one must not be more than six feet two inches tall – and his dad and older brothers easily surpassed that height.  So, when Andy sprouted to six foot five, he decided to pursue an infantry position in the army.

I asked Andy why he chose a dangerous position like infantry.  “I always knew that I wanted to serve on the front lines.  Part of it is that I wanted to be in the action.  But also, I liked the purpose of it - maybe I’ll die someday when I am old and gray, but if not, I want to die for something…like my country.”

I slowly nodded my head in awe as Andy continued, “I realized that while I was still young, I already had lived a good life.  I grew up with a great family and friends, and if this was it, than this was it.”

Eventually, Andy was deployed.  He was stationed in Kuwait and was in the Hum-Vee that would lead and protect convoys on their way to and from bases in Iraq.  His role was to detect IED’s (bombs) and diffuse them (and their operators) so that the supply trucks could travel safely.

Of course, if they missed detecting an IED, either truck of one of the supply trucks could be blown to bits.  I asked him if this made him afraid.  “Yeah, I was afraid, but I couldn’t dwell on the fear.  If I did, I would hesitate.  And if I hesitated, I would miss things.  And if missed things, I would die.  Or even worse, one of my team members would die. 

Did that make you afraid?  “I learned to control my fear.  When I landed in Kuwait, I basically decided that I had already died.  So, living as if I were already dead made it easier to protect my team and stay calm in the face of danger.  I was all in.”  He continued, “It is similar to an athlete.  If you play like you are afraid of getting hurt, you are probably going to get hurt, or worse yet, get a teammate hurt.  But if you play with a proper amount of reckless abandon, you will be bettering not only yourself but your teammates.”

Although Andy knows four soldiers who gave their lives to the war, none of them were on his immediate team.  However, that doesn’t mean that he was immune to seeing death.  “In one of my first missions, we entered an Iraqi village and noticed two young boys fighting over a leather jacket, which was worth a good amount of money.  They couldn’t have been more than 6 or 7 years old.  A group of adults were simply standing around and watching them, making no effort to break it up.  The fight ended when one of the young boys pulled a knife out of his pocket and slit the throat of the other.”  Andy paused and continued, “That was really tough.  It was then that I realized how little many Iraqis valued life.”

Seeing things like that, did you ever lose it or break down?  “No, not really, if you mean like crying and stuff.  I mean, I once came home from a mission to find out that my grandmother had passed away and that crushed me, but I never really broke down solely from a mission.  There were a few times when I got back from a mission and raged in a fit of anger.  I would just start throwing stuff around in my tent, and I’m not even sure why.  Now, I barely remember those moments, but that must have been my way of dealing with things.”

When I asked Andy to tell me about the closest he came to death, he quieted a bit. He didn’t really want to talk about this one, and simply lifted up his shirt to show several shrapnel scars on his right side.  There is a story behind those scars, and I am not sure if I will ever know what happened. 

I probed a bit further when I asked if he was happy that he made it out alive.  Andy laughed heartily, “Oh yeah, I’m happy to still be here.  It is not like I was Lieutenant Dan from Forrest Gump, who felt his destiny was to die in a war.”

I inquired as whether his experiences resulted in any post traumatic stress.  “I have a buddy who regularly wakes up screaming from night tremors.  Fortunately, I haven’t experienced that much.  ”

So, you are okay?  “Well, the one thing that is tough on me is fireworks, not the little firecrackers, but the big and booming fireworks.  They sound like mortars.  And when I think of mortars, I think of someone firing on me.  As we approach the 4^th of July, it gets tougher, as people sometimes let off big fireworks.  There have been times when I have been sleeping, heard a big firework, and been shocked awake for ½ the night.”

I wrapped up our discussion by getting this soldier’s perspective on what he likes best about living in America.  “People always use the word freedom, but that doesn’t fully explain it.  I like that you can be anything you want to be.  Possibilities are endless.  If you want to do something badly enough, you can do it.”

So, on this 236^th birthday of the United States of America, I say “thank you” to Andy and all of the other military men and women.  And if any of my neighbors read this, please don’t set off any fireworks on our street – let’s allow our soldier to sleep in peace tonight.