Pillar of Autumn

“It was a serious sport, Brendon. People died.”
“Is that why you were crying?”
“I wasn’t crying, Brendon. I was remembering. With tears.”
-Home Movies

I guess some people learn to get by with very little sleep. I do not see how I ever will. I am drinking so much coffee now that I think it may affect my body chemistry. I am always getting calls, usually late at night, to come up to my office and fix something that doesn’t need fixing. The problem is that my new boss is not really sure what my job is; so he micromanages. Or rather, he forces me to do so. I am also having problems with people on whom I rely becoming lazy and forgetful as the tour plods obstinately toward the finish line. I am having to police up after people who should be self-sufficient. I am having to resort to official channels to solve problems that, earlier in the tour, could have been solved with an offline conversation.

They shut down the DFAC. No more chow. Now it’s mermites breakfast and supper, and an MRE for dinner. Wonderful. Today I had the Pork Rib Meat Patty (Imitation), which I was too terrified to investigate by reading the writing on the package. It came with clam chowder. What quantity of narcotics would you have to consume, and over what period of time, to think that clam chowder goes with ribs? I also got a cookie with, and I swear I’m not making this up, “Pan Coated Chocolate Discs.” These turned out to be M&Ms. Only the army could figure out a way to make M&Ms sound unappetizing and institutional.

You see, it’s not that I haven’t had thousands of MREs before. It is just that small things like the combination of courses in the meals are starting to really grate on my nerves. When you are tired and under pressure to complete many diverse missions, seemingly inconsequential things can become emotional events. I watched two soldiers in the gym almost kill each other, and it was over something so stupid or obscure that those of us that broke it up never figured out what it was about.

My meetings are early in the morning and then mid-afternoon to late at night. So I’ve taken to working out at lunchtime, and then eating my MRE in my room with my radio turned down, while I read or watch part of a movie. It is my only escape, really. I cannot wait to get home. Soon, now, so soon.

One positive thing, however, is that I’ve been able to study Arabic quite a bit. There are numerous periods throughout the day of ten minutes to half an hour where I’m just waiting on a phone call or email or a soldier to get back with a report. I’m taking these opportunities to use the Rosetta Stone program. I have already learned a lot. I can even recognize certain written words. One thing that fascinated me was the discovery that, in Arabic, the words for “bird” and “plane” are almost the exact same.

I will have to pack my television and XBOX up tomorrow or the next day, so I went and cleaned the library out of any decent-looking books they had. A room full of maybe three thousand books, and I come back with five. However, one of them was Michael Marshall Smith’s “Spares,” a fantastic sci-fi story, that I did not yet own; so I’ll be taking that one home. I’ve left enough books in these libraries over the past year that I figure I’m even.

A brief update on the weather: it is hot here. Sweat evaporates so quickly that you do not feel it unless you’re wearing armor that the wind can’t get under, so you aren’t aware that you’ve lost so much water until you get heatstroke. The full-on sand storms have stopped, but in their place we’ve got dust storms. They are somehow just as bad, and the dust is so much finer than the sand that it even gets in places you think are sealed, like footlockers and duffle bags. I cannot believe that people could live through one summer in this place and not flee. I myself will be leaving as soon as I can. Three battalions in my brigade have been extended (technically we have, too, but only a week so far); I am terrified that we will be stuck here for an extra month as well.