Unsure

It’s been a long couple of months.

Two record-breaking heat waves in the PNW, long days at work, dealing with the VA for my knee, and now, Afghanistan.

My initial feeling about the withdrawal and subsequent Taliban takeover was numbness. It was overwhelming to the point of my needing to just block it out of my mind so I could actually function.

As the week progressed, I slowly started thinking about what was happening and how I actually felt.

Truth is, I’m still not sure how I feel.

I think about 20 years in the same country, fighting the same enemy, with more or less the same strategy and I’m frustrated it’s taken this long to get out of there.

I think about the politicians who’ve used service members and veterans as props to win elections but doing nothing to actually change the situation and I’m pissed our political system is just a money grab.

I think about the voters who put them there (myself included) and I hate they haven’t paid more attention to the things happening in Afghanistan and didn’t push said politicians to come up with a coherent strategy.

I think about the media and the lack of coverage and I miss Walter Cronkite who had the guts to cover the Vietnam War in a way that made it matter.

I think of all the commanders in Afghanistan and all the corners we’ve turned there and I’m angry they lied and put their careers over their Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen.

I think about the people I deployed with, many of whom worked with locals to help make their country safer and I worry for their mental health and hope they are processing this whole thing better than I am.

I think about all the Afghans trying to flee their homes and I feel helpless.

I think about the six months I spent in Afghanistan, sitting behind a desk, and contributing very little to the overall fight, and I feel like I don’t have the right to an opinion, like I shouldn’t be struggling this much.

I think about all my friends who deployed for full tours, some of them multiple times and I wish they could get that time back; that they could spend that time at home with their families.

I think about Dan Reilly and Adam Keys who both lost their legs and I feel sorrow for the sacrifices they made and that they will now have a much different life than they otherwise could’ve had.

I think about John Runkle, one of the best leaders and one of the best people I’ve known; about Dimitri Del Castillo, one of the most charismatic and optimistic people I’ve ever encountered, and I’m sad. They sacrificed themselves in Afghanistan, and we are right back where we started, with the Taliban in control, Al Qaeda regrouping, and a whole lot of people angry, confused, and pointing fingers.

It’s hard not to think their deaths— and the deaths of everyone in Afghanistan over the past two decades— was somehow in vain. It can’t be, how could this country sacrifice some of its best men and woman for nothing.

And then I think about Corey Rutherford.

For the one patrol I was a part of in Afghanistan, he was my driver. I didn’t know him well but I knew him enough. He was reserved but, in the right situation, very funny with a quick wit. Everyone in the battalion knew him or, at least, knew of him and was one of the most liked in the unit.

He served 14 years with multiple deployments as a linguist and earned the rank of Staff Sergeant.

He lost his life to suicide in 2019.

His death and the death of so many service members who died AFTER they came home will not be counted in the numbers of Americans killed as a result of this war… but they should be.

And I feel everything.

———————

With anything as complicated as the War in Afghanistan, the feelings are going to be complex.

There’s no one way to feel and there’s no one way to process everything—if it’s even possible to process everything in the first place.

In the mean time, I’m trying not to place blame or point fingers. It doesn’t really seem productive at the moment.

Instead, I’m trying to figure out how to help, what things I can do moving forward to contribute in any sort of way.

I think it’s time we all be kind and empathetic towards one another and figure out where we go from here.

Keep your feet moving

Hope

I remember sitting in my room on May 2, 2011, talking to my parents during our weekly phone conversations.

I was three weeks away from graduation, three months from starting Basic Officer's Leadership Course, and three years from my first and, luckily, only deployment.

It had been a boring weekend: studying for finals, making final preparations for the summer, a few beers with friends, nothing unusual or noteworthy.

It was around 11 PM in New York, a light breeze was blowing through the halls cooling what had been a warm but not sweltering day.

My parents were talking about their flight into Newark, where they were staying in Highland Falls, which car they'd rented, and how excited they were to be at graduation. We went over when and where the commissioning ceremony was going to be, who'd be invited, what they should bring, what they should wear, all the things parents like to talk about when they're trying to hide their excitement.

As I was explaining when and where I would meet them after the ceremony was over, an email hit my inbox. I stopped mid-sentence to read it: "President to Make an Announcement on National Security Matter".

"Turn on the news," I told my parents, "the President is about to make an announcement."

I hung up the phone and listened as President Obama announced that Osama bin Laden had been killed.

A loud, continuous cheer could be heard all over campus. Videos of our celebrations hit Facebook almost instantly. A man who'd been "Enemy Number One" for almost half our lives was no longer a threat.

Naively, I thought the war in Afghanistan was over.

I assumed, with the leader of our enemies dead, we would bring everyone home, and that I'd missed my chance to contribute.

Three years later, I boarded a plane in Kuwait headed to Bagram Airfield. For six months I sat behind a desk, resourced missions, and planned the logistics for our flight back.

As our battalion left, a new one came to take our place.

Soon after, a different battalion replaced them.

The wheel kept spinning, service members kept dying, and no one could really say what we were doing there.

For two thirds of my life (my entire adult life), we've been fighting in Afghanistan, most of which was fought after bin Laden was killed. Every six months, generals and politicians would proclaim we'd turned a corner, that we were winning, and soon we could bring everyone home.

And for two thirds of my life, it was all bull shit.

But today, there's a glimmer of hope: the Taliban have signed a preliminary peace deal.

I'm hopeful, though not optimistic, that now we can finally start the process of leaving Afghanistan and start the healing process for so many who need it.

I'm hopeful that we'll stop seeing stories about service members killed in Afghanistan.

I'm hopeful that I won't lose anymore friends for nothing.

Maybe it’s naiveté.

Maybe this is all for show and nothing of substance or worth will come from it.

But I’m still hopeful.

Keep Your Feet Moving