Remembrance Day

Hello from Afghanistan,

When I first conceived the idea of writing a blog, I told myself that I did not want to write anything that would make soldiering out to be more than it was. Yes we get to do some stuff that kids and grown men both dream about, but most soldiers are regular everyday people whom happened to choose an adventurous career. In the end it is a job just like any other; considerable hard work and little glamour. On the other side of the scale, I did not want to write anything about the hardships of soldiering. The physical toil on the body under the searing heat nor the emotional uncertainty of the unknown. There will be, I am almost certain, some event that will knock me down a peg and test my resolve. I will hold it close though, and not share it on my blog. This post will be the only one that ventures anywhere near that subject matter and only because of Remembrance Day.

All soldiers begin the journey to Afghanistan fully aware of the dangers that lie ahead. This awareness begins in Basic Training with Master Corporals loudly reminding you that "what you are doing could save your life one day so pay attention". Then you get to know different soldiers that have been overseas on missions and hear about their near misses, rocket attacks and IED scares. You listen wide eyed and silent knowing that one day you will be on the hot seat doing what they were doing with nervous anticipation. Finally, your friends leave for Afghanistan and you spend half a year worrying about them; wishing you could be there to "watch their six". Then, after eight fast months of training you are a week away trying to not do anything stupid that would get you kicked off tour. For me it was gingerly walking around the farm trying to avoid an injury of some sort. The fear of not going with your friends and buddies by far outweighs the fears of going when you are so close to deployment. Soldiers are fully immersed in a culture of understanding about the dangers of Afghanistan, but despite all our grooming to become hardened soldiers the reoccurring deaths of Canadian Soldiers still penetrates the heart of the hardest soldier out there. 

A friend of mine, the one that I mentioned in an earlier post, said in her blog that every soldier that dies is known through one or two degrees of separation. This means that at least one soldier close to me knew him/her for whatever reason. Since the mission began in Kandahar Province this could not be any more true. While thankfully nobody close to me has been killed in action, many of my friends, civilian and soldiers alike, have known personally those that have. Friends from university that knew some of the fallen, army friends that trained with this soldier or that, and those that were close friends with the fallen heros. There are too many to list; which in itself is sad. I will mention the latest member to be killed in Afghanistan as he was known by many of my friends; both civilian and military. 

Sapper Steven Marshall was not my friend nor my acquaintance. I recognize the man from training this past year in Suffield as our bivouacs were side by side.  He was, though, known by several of my fellow soldiers in F-Troop from his days at the training base in Gagetown. His death was received as they usually are with a quiet moment of acknowledged silence and gazes averted to the appropriate spot on the floor or wall. Many knew him personally while some had just partied with him a bit. The thing is, this was the second death since I arrived in theatre but this is the first that many of my fellow soldiers knew and grieved for him.  We all know of the dangers but that day, at that moment, they became very real and tangible. It was as if the fatalistic approach to soldiering required to serve over seas wavered,if only just for the moment, underneath the weight of what we stand to lose.

Sapper Marshall's death also served as a wake up call to really look upon the soldiers at the FOB. As I have said previously, there is a starry eyed appeal to everything new in Afghanistan and the grandeur blurs what really lies right before your eyes. Suddenly you start noticing soldiers limping with their heads hung low, you see vehicles towed in rough shape, and then you see the Med-evac helicopters making brief landings and taking off again in haste. You hear the gun fire hoping that you do not see a vehicle come racing in through the gate which is a tell tale sign of a wounded troop. All of this makes the gloss of Hollywood bravado wear off quickly to show the true colours of conflict.  

If there is any message to be gained from what I have said it can be found in what I will mention next. When we flew into KAF in the middle of the night and were herded like cattle through paper work and briefs there was a short time in which we had about a half hour to "smoke and joke" while waiting for the next portion of the in-clearance to commence. During this time the sun was starting to poke over top of the closest eastern ghar (mountain) and we were able to look around at some of the features of the area. Every soldier had a war face on, ready to take on the Taliban at that moment should He be brave enough to show his face. I was enjoying the light mood of everyone but took a moment to look around. What stood out more than anything at that exact second, was the look upon the faces of the soldiers whom had been here before. They looked like they were staring at a horse whom had just bucked them off, but they knew full well the only way home was to get back up and ride again. I walked over to a buddy of mine nicknamed No-No and asked him "are you happy to be back?". I know now that it seems like a stupid question seeing as it is Afghanistan but considering the seemingly universal frivolity of the moment I deemed it reasonable to ask. Very quietly he said, "No. Not at all. A lot of guys have had a really bad go over here." What he said sunk in quickly knowing that No-No had been IEDed before, lost friends, and knew first hand what we were getting into. 

The second part of the message can be found quickly in the words of my grandfather. Being a veteran of WWII, his life as a young man was defined by a terrible war in which he lost his father, friends, and suffered a bad leg wound. After I had finished Basic I had the opportunity to chat with him about military life, as I have done many times since. We talked about Regimental Sergeant Majors, getting in trouble, and the best ways to make your boots shine. Most of what he said is still in practice in some manner or another today so we had plenty to talk about. He went into some of his war stories too and I hung to literally every word. Our talk was finished with him telling me something that will never leave me. He looked at me and stated very firmly "Drew, this war stuff... its for the dogs you know. Its for the dogs." The finality of his words that day spoke volumes.  

That is my post on what is a Canadian Forces a day of mourning. I tried not to get preachy nor seem too proud. The Remembrance Day message is even more clear in Afghanistan. Let us always remember that war, even though it is at times a necessary evil, is for the dogs, and never forget those that have had a "bad go". 

Lest we forget.

Bdr Fossum