Here we are; born to be kings; we’re the princes of the universe
Current mood: determined

Thus begins one of my all time favorite songs, by Queen from the soundtrack to the movie 'Highlander'.

It feels like that sometimes, being a soldier. You're out amongst a population of people many of whom are violently hostile toward you, but you're wrapped in an armored vehicle, wearing sixty pounds of armor plate, carrying deadly weapons with which you're more than proficient, and you have a group of buddies right next to you who will endanger their own lives to keep you from trouble and vice versa.

Now that our extension is effective most of us have come to terms with it, and have found the positives (although persons are encouraged to write their congress-critters and have them vote us a sizeable monetary bonus). I worry more for our families who are still worried for us. I'm afraid that they some how think we're going to come back from this changed mentally and emotionally beyond recognition from the people we were when we left. It's my observation that this couldn't be further from the truth.

While I was home on leave people would occasionally ask me "So how is it over there?"

If they were veterans I'd give them some details and specifics, but no matter who they were I'd always answer "There are good days and bad days, but mostly just long boring days."

A well known military cliché' is that war is long periods of tedious frustration punctuated by moments of intense fear, and elation. I've come to realize that most of the time when something about which you SHOULD be afraid is happening around you, you're usually too busy dealing with it to even realize you're afraid. After the situation is resolved, and normally resolved in such a way that you realize you were foolish to ever be afraid in the first place, is the period of elation. Also short lived. But nothing about what we're seeing and experiencing over here is likely to make us into people who are fundamentally different than we were before we left.

Certainly our fathers had it far worse in Vietnam, and our grandfathers suffered and fought through horrific conditions in the second world war and Korea. My great-uncle (my grandfather's brother) Leonard Ulrich was a radio operator with the 734th Tank Destroyer battalion on 6 June 1944. They were on one of the very first waves ashore on Omaha Beach. He died that morning communicating with following waves out on the water, insuring they would be able to more effectively place their troops. On that single day they suffered casualties in numbers and horror that dwarf anything that happens over here.

Our enemies are cowardly, poorly motivated, poorly led, and poorly supplied. Their one advantage is the ability to melt into the local population and hide there, rendering nearly impossible our attempts to bring them to the fight. This is frustrating, but when we ARE able to engage them directly that's where the elation comes in. Anti-Iraqi forces have NEVER won a gun battle against US forces, and I predict they never will. The roadside bombs are bad news, and we do what we can to protect ourselves, but beyond that you just drive and don't worry. But we're always hoping they're going to pop up and start shooting at us. Because then we know we can win. Why? We're the princes of the universe. "I have no rival, no man can be my equal!"

Six more months and we're on the way home. At least it'll be summertime. The pool at my apartment complex should be jumping, I'll have 30 days of leave, and a brand new Italian motorcycle just begging to have its wheels ridden off. Plus quite a bit of cash in my pocket.

So don't feel down for us. We'd rather be home, but we're also ready for another opportunity to take the fight to the enemy. So bring it Muji, me and my guys are coming home on our feet, and we'll see you in hell.


MTFBWY