At Ease

My name is Jack Harper. I am 25 years old, and am currently stationed in Baghdad. I have dark brown hair, a ruddy complexion, and am never without a smile on my face and something witty to say. Despite this, I have been made a second lieutenant in the army through, as my superiors say, “continued acts of bravery and clear-headed thinking”. I call it luck. I have been lucky to live so far, and many better but less fortunate men than I have been killed.
What is war? War is a glory to behold. In war, you will bring harmony and splendor to your country. That’s what they tell you in the pamphlets, at least. Well, I’ll tell you: war is anything but a glory to behold. War is hell. I’ve seen innocent children gunned down simply because they were in the way or in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve heard the screams as the doomed children wailed in terror, as the ruthless terrorists mowed them down with their machine guns. I’ve held an Iraqi child as his blood runs down my arms while waiting for the ambulance to arrive, which it never does. I’ve had friends, good friends, better friends than any I will ever know, killed in this so-called “glorious” war. I’ve seen entire schools blown to smoldering pieces, children murdered, and women left without families, all in the name of “glory”. Even though it’s not the Americans, a.k.a. us, committing these atrocities, it makes little difference. There is a very thin line between the “good guys” and the “bad guys”. At what point does the “good guy” become the “bad guy”? The truth is there is no such thing as a “bad guy”. There are simply enemies, allies, and more enemies. Innocent people have died on both sides, and the death toll keeps rising.
How did I end up in this mess? When I turned twenty, I enlisted in the army, enticed by the scholarship programs and thinking that I would never have to fight in a war, as the nation had long been in a period of peace. Then, shortly after the horror of 9/11, the war in Iraq began. It was much too late to leave the army and before I knew it I found myself on a helicopter ride to Baghdad, Iraq. I have been serving in Iraq for three years now and have seen too much bloodshed and debauchery to ever forget it, even if I manage to survive.
Every day now I think back to before the war, when I was with my beloved Julia and my son, who was born shortly before the war. I think of my father, Jack Sr., always with a smile on his face and an encouraging comment. I think of my mother, who worried every day when I walked to and back from school. I can’t even imagine how my part in this war must be killing her. I think of my parents-in-law, supporting and proud of both me and Julia. But mostly I think of my wife, Julia. How we may never see each other again. How I may never see her beautiful, smiling face, hold her in my arms, feeling the natural curves of her body, and gaze into her eyes, deep and timeless as a bottomless pool of green, luminescent water.
My life in Iraq is one of endless days spent protecting the citizens, giving out toys and candy to Iraqi children, and fighting the countless terrorist attacks. Most of all, I am simply trying to stay alive. At least there is one thing to brighten my mood each day. My childhood friend Matt joined me when I went to the army, wisecracking that “somebody needs to be the brains of this outfit.” Truly, Matt was a gifted student and came home with around 3 B’s during his entire 12 years of school. He had been practically begged to attend prestigious schools like Princeton, Harvard and M.I.T. on a full scholarship. He has a very promising future after the war.
I am chatting one day to my friend Matt, giving candy to some Iraqi children, when a group of Iraqi men come up to us and start yelling. Matt speaks Iraqi, I don’t, so I let him talk to them freely. Suddenly one of the men yells and shoves Matt and the group walks off. When I ask Matt what it was all about, he offers a noncommittal reply that it was simply an idle threat. It didn’t look so idle to me.
Later on in the day, we receive the news that Matt is being transferred to the homefront. I have mixed feelings on this; I am happy for my friend, but at the same time, I will miss his optimism brightening the day. He has been a good friend and a constant source of cheerfulness, and I know that he will go on to be a great man.
I have known for a long time now that many of the Iraqi people resent our presence in their country and condemn us for all the lives lost in the war. These people keep to themselves mostly, though I have little doubt about how much hatred they harbor for us. The worst part is the terrorists, who plant bombs in cars, trains, and sometimes even their own bodies, and who show indifference as to whether their victims are U.S. soldiers or Iraqi schoolchildren.
It is dark later that night in the street in Baghdad where my squad is stationed. All is quiet, and the crickets are chirping, safely hidden in the bushes and trees. I sigh in my tent and wipe sweat off my grimy face, having lain awake all night long. Suddenly, the crickets stop their tirade. Silence, deadly silence reigns. I prop myself up on my elbows and listen. More silence. Then, there is a screeching of tires, the cry of “car bomb!” and a tremendous explosion which rends the very air which we breathe. Then all falls silent once again.
Today is October 23, 2005. My son will be having his 6th birthday celebration tomorrow, and I’ll never be around to see it. Because, as my spirit leaves my broken, twisted and charred body behind, I know that all my beloved wife Julia and my son Billy will be given is an official notice from the army: “Second Lieutenant Jack Harper died in combat at approximately 1400 hours on Oct. 23, 2005.”