The term “mid-tour leave” is a bit of a misnomer. This leave can actually fall anywhere between two and ten months into a twelve-month tour. My mid-tour leave began 92 days into the 365 I expect to spend in Iraq. This leaves another 250+ days before seeing my sweet wife and children again.
While it seems quite a long time to go, knowing I’m already over one third of the way through gives me solace. Even still, it’s going to be a rough eight months.
But let’s forget the next eight months for now and instead focus on the last one month. The day before the beginning of R&R through the day after its completion: January 18th to February 18th.
The first 90 days in Iraq our battalion saw little enemy contact. Tragically, we still lost one Soldier. In a non-combat-related incident, Pfc. Sean McCune died. The incident is still under investigation.
The day before I began my week-long trek home, we held a memorial ceremony for Sean. It should go without saying that it never gets any easier, attending such ceremonies. The last memorial I attended was in Kirkuk, Iraq, last deployment. Two months into our three-month surprise deployment extension (go to hell, Robert Gates), a Blackhawk helicopter suffered mechanical failure and went down, killing eleven Soldiers, all of whom I knew, a handful of whom were close friends.
War, even when you never see the enemy, is hell. Rest in peace, brothers.
The day after the memorial ceremony, I, along with five other Soldiers, boarded a Blackhawk bound for COB Speicher. I am grateful to the crew from Charlie Company, 2-10 Aviation, Fort Drum, NY, for getting us safely to our interim destination.
I spent the next four days in “tent city” on COB Speicher awaiting transportation to Kuwait. I spent much of that time watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 and Doctor Who (circa the Tom Baker years), and eating foot-long BMT’s from Subway. I spent $10 for a single day of Sniper Hill internet access, primarily to watch President Obama’s inauguration speech. I was moved to tears.
The flight from Speicher to Kuwait City was quick and easy, even after making four stops along the way. I sat in the same spot on the C-130 as I had my first trip to Iraq. You may recall the story about the EXTREME DANGER - LAST DITCH USE ONLY - OMG DON’T OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR adventure?
The in / out processing procedure in Kuwait has been greatly streamlined since my last visit, and I was pleased to be through the system and on my way home in such good time.
To say the flight from Kuwait City to Atlanta was overcrowded is to say Amy Winehouse is in need of an intervention. My well-formulated plan to write, read McSweeney’s and watch more Doctor Who on the plane was stifled by my four centimeters of elbow room and three inches of leg room. It took all my dexterity to wrangle enough space to put headphones in my ears and fall asleep. In-flight meals? Yeah, right.
Our midway-to-Atlanta stop turned out to be Shannon, Ireland.
Every other passage I’ve ended up in Leipsig, Germany, so this was a pleasant change of pace. Unfortunately, the Man was very clear about alcohol consumption and purchase. In a word, “NO!”
So no Irish Guinness for me. The best I could pull off was a breakfast tea and a picture of a duty-free bottle of Jameson.
Most things European impress me, not the least of which are the size of the health warnings emblazoned on their tobacco products.
Unlike American cigarettes, who hide their Surgeon General’s warnings on the bottom of the pack in tiny letters, the European varieties leave no question whatever about the harmful effects of smoking. SMOKING KILLS. SMOKING SERIOUSLY HARMS YOU AND THOSE AROUND YOU. SMOKERS DIE YOUNGER. Good for them, boo for us, America.
The flights from Shannon to Atlanta, Atlanta to Los Angeles and Los Angeles to Honolulu were largely uneventful. They will not be mentioned further.
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