Sleepless in Iraq

I awake with a sharp gasp and a cold sweat dripping down my back. Once my eyes come into focus, I slowly begin to remember where I am. The same place I've been for the past four months. As I breathe in the sticky, humid air, I listen to the snores of my cabin mates, and I realize once again that it was just another nightmare.

It's the same one I've had over and over for the past several weeks; I'm running to catch up to Lt. Samson and the rest of the platoon as we sprint through the war-torn streets of Ramadi, Iraq. No matter how fast I run, the entire platoon seems to drift farther and farther away, until eventually they completely disappear, and all I can hear is the distant echo of Lt. Samson barking out his orders. I come to a complete stop, my heart pounding, and notice that I am completely and utterly alone. I see abandoned and crumbling buildings, and the only movement is the flutter and flap of a dirty American flag, ripped at the seems and hanging from the door of an Iraqi grocery store. Suddenly, two figures appear from down the dusty road- the silhouette of a woman holding the hand of a small child as they slowly walk towards me. I run towards these figures, eager to see human company amidst the quietness of the streets. The woman wears the traditional garb of a black cloak and veil, while the young child is wrapped in brown cloth from head to toe. As I come closer, I can barely believe my eyes; the figures are my wife Linda and my daughter Isabelle! Linda's hazel eyes sparkle with tears, and her veil unwinds as she breaks into a run with Isabelle stumbling behind, laughing. I laugh while tears of joy run down my face, and I am almost there...I can almost touch them, embrace them, kiss them....and then it happens. Linda and Isabelle are within feet of me, when in almost slow motion Linda takes the forward step that ends this nightmare every single time. I look down in horror at the landmine that has appeared out of thin air between us, and before her final step, I quickly glance up and see that the woman is just another Iraqi woman with her young daughter, not Linda and Isabelle. The Iraqi woman gives me a cold look with her hauntingly dark eyes, and then - BOOM. It's over. The same nightmare over and over, and despite my best effort, I never do reach the woman and child in time to save them from the explosion.

I lie in my bunk, struggling to fall back asleep. I check my digital watch - 4:53 a.m. local time- and give a groan. Lt. Samson will be waking us up at six, like he does every morning, and then it will be another day under the scorching and merciless Iraq sun. After several minutes of flopping around in my bed, I make up my mind to take a walk around camp to settle my mind. I quietly slip on my boots and leave the cabin, leaving Green, Ward, and Campbell to mumble in their sleep. I know that I should be trying to get all the sleep I can, (sometimes our platoon has to go for days with only a couple hours of sleep), but this is the only time I have to relax, be alone, and just think about everything. I plop beside the wheel of one of the nearby Jeeps, and lay my back against the hot rubber, staring out at the deep purple night sky and millions of flickering stars. I think about my nightmare again, and my mind drifts through sweet and pleasant memories of my old life back in Fort Worth, Texas.

They tell us not to think too much about home, family, or friends. They told us that the guys who think too much about that stuff sometimes drive themselves crazy, and in rare cases, they're sent back home. At first, going to Iraq was just like going to summer camp-It just seemed like an adventure and a chance to see an exotic place. I wasn't too worried about anything-I graduated at the top of my class at the academy back in Fort Worth. "How hard could it be?" I thought to myself smugly while packing for Iraq. "It's not like I'm going to Vietnam or something...I'll only be there for a couple of months...What's the worst that could happen?". I remember the day I left so clearly. The other graduates and I strutted across the air force base, preparing to board the plane that would send us to this godforsaken hellhole. Our family and friends stood aside the plane, cheering and waving as we walked up the plane's steps. After a brief kiss with Linda, I twirled Isabelle in the air while she grinned. I turned to board the plane, when I heard Linda holler, "Don't you be forgetting us, Chuck!". I turned around, gave them a toothy grin, and yelled back "I don't think that will be a problem!". Only know do I realize how true those words would come to be.

I see them everywhere, daily. It's not like I'm trying to remind myself of them, it's just that their faces will jump out of nowhere sometimes, with no warning at all. You would think I would be used to it by now, but I feel like everyday is another struggle just to stay focused and sane. I'll hear Linda crying from a neighborhood home, only when I enter and frantically try to find her, it's only an old Iraqi woman, screaming in Arabic while she holds the limp body of her grandchild in her arms, most likely killed from a nearby gunfight. I'll see a glimpse of Isabelle's eyes when I look at the faces of the Iraqi children, who come and stare in awe at the sight of Americans and their strange, foreign food and goods. While driving the jeep, I'll see Linda's face for only an instant, laughing at me as she stares from a shop window. It's only for an instant, a small lapse in time that I can never catch and hold onto.

Iraq has changed me. War has changed me. I'm not the same man I was. How much easier it would be to be back in America, and completely oblivious to this almost alien world. I call Linda whenever I get the chance, and I want her to know everything so badly. "If only she knew" I mutter to myself, "If only the rest of the world knew!". I've seen the news coverage, I know how they portray the war. They're very careful in the images they decide to use, the language they use, everything. I really don't think anyone could possibly know what it's like down here without experiencing it themselves. If you think you've seen blood and violence, you just wait until you get down to Iraq. I see things here everyday that I would never even think of in my darkest nightmares. So many innocent people have died, and will continue to die. The worst is when you see the children and mothers in pain, that's the thing that really hits me hard. Children will wander into our base camp, covered in their dead mother or father's blood, begging for help. You have to get used to this type of stuff happening everyday, and you can't let it affect you too much, just like they told us. "

The very first rays of sunlight begin to trickle across the desert sands. It never ceases to amaze me that I can't share the same sun and moon with Linda and Isabelle, another painful reminder of the vast differences between here and home. I hear some of the others beginning to wake up, and I get up and stretch with a groan just when Lt. Samson yells, "Get up privates!". I stare at the bright sun, and think of Linda and Isabelle on the other side of the world, fast asleep, safe, and unknowing. "Only five months left..." I whisper into the wind.