- Aug 19, 2019
My cousin was drafted. They sent him home after one night. Weird duck he is. Harmless & weird & richer than fuck. He never left his house after that. Sat upstairs in his bedroom alone in his lounge chair with TV on while he read whatever military books & magazines. Eating with him was unsettling at first. Everynight he ate cracker soup with tomato soup on top. Never saw much of him because he held the newspaper up around him like a wall when he ate. My poor Aunt. She invited me to eat at her house most nights & lunchtimes. She wanted someone to talk to, have a cup of coffee, but mostly a reason to cook something someone else besides her self who would appreciate her cooking. I ate well. She's dead now. When I drive by that big house at night, there's a single light on which is his bedroom. A bit Norman Batesish. And to try to stop my rumbling: I worked several years with adults, including veterans, to rehab them for jobs. Some people were very lost. Lost.That's odd. Thought that was a requirement to joining U ncle S ams M isguided C hildren. That's a joke to my leatherneck brothers btw..
The military does change you. Combat more so.
I don't regret even one second of my service. Key word. I joined to serve. And I did it.
The reasons for going to Iraq didn't matter to me then. I answered the call.
I wouldn't be the man I am today without having done so. Am I fucked up over the why? Yep. But I didn't make the decision. And I knew when I joined that's how it is.
What keeps me going is the idea that someone else didn't HAVE to go in my place. Sounds weird but that's how I deal with the negative feelings about it.
And my job was more to save lives than take them. I hold onto those things and that's how I make it ok.
A lot of guys.....they got nothing good enough to make what they went through ok and those guys while not Kia's are casualties none the less.