Baghdad
nights
It
was a long-assed day.
We
had dinner at the DFAC
and
returned to the office.
Finally
knocked off around 9pm.
The
mandatory protective vest
weighs
heavy on my
already
tired shoulders –
while
the strap connecting the two sides
cuts
into my waist as I try to balance
their
weight on my
already
tired hips -
I
lumber on to my
tin-foil
hootch
in
Embassy Estates on the
the
Republican Palace grounds…
It
is late. I shower and
turn
on Fox News,
the
only station that works.
“In
California today, Senator Clinton
said
President Johnson
was
more important
than
Dr. King
to
getting the Civil Rights Bill
passed.” Aw shyt.
White
House better stay white.
I
fall asleep reading “Certain to Win,”
one
of those Army War College texts
from
the Strategic Studies program
I
am falling further and further behind in
with
each passing Baghdad day.
2am. The witching hour.
Time
for target practice.
I'm
awakened by the sound
of
the Duck and Cover alarm.
The
concrete reinforced shelter is 100 meters
away
from my tin-foil hootch –
100
meters as the crow flies…
Nope. I’ll sit this one out – and pray –
Bong! Bong!
Bong! Bong! The alarm
sounds. I hear people stumbling,
some
drunkenly staggering –
to
the safety of the shelter.
I
shelter in place and
start
my usual prayer
(I
skip a lot of drills –
and
pray a lot -
these
days):
“The
Lord is my Shepherd,
I
shall not want.
He
maketh me ….”
SWOOOOOOSH!
A
mortar round flies over
the
tin foil roof
of
my tin foil hootch –
“....lie
down in green pastures.
He
leadeth me
beside
the Still Waters….–“
THUMP.
The
round hits the nearby ground.
Maybe
it is another dud.
I
continue my prayer:
“….He
restoreth my soul ---“
KABOOOOOM!
It
was not a dud.
But
I pinch myself and
I
am not dead.
I
finish my prayer:
“And
I will dwell
in
the House of the Lord,
forever.”
Back
to sleep.
There
is still more night.
And
tomorrow
is
another Baghdad day.
No comments:
Post a Comment