Our first night of training we had a big opening dinner, and like all orientations we were asked to introduce ourselves, tell something unique about ourselves and why we were there, why we wanted to go to Afghanistan. “My name is Marie, I’m an amateur photography and if I do say so myself I’m pretty good at it. I’m here because I’ve been involved in one way or another with the military community since becoming a military wife, and I’d like to experience a little bit of what my husband has gone through on his four overseas deployments including Afghanistan, while at the same time supporting our troops”. Supporting our troops became a standard answer that night, there were a few military wives like myself, a few ex military, and some that had just come across the ad, or heard through a friend etc....
There were also a few college and high school graduates. Not many were honest in their answers as to why they were there, but a few, very few were annoyingly honest and said they were there for the money. Now being there to make a few extra dollars isn’t necessarily a bad thing if you’re willing to do your job to the best of your ability, knowing that the job you have in front of you is like no other and requires to go above and beyond, most of which those that were there for the money weren’t willing to do. You knew right off the bat once you starting working who was there and for what reason. You could tell by who would go the extra mile, who would make a quick phone call to another store for a soldier who was only in KAF for the day, but really wanted something that our current store was out of, who would take the time during slow peaks in Tim Horton’s to put a smile on a cup, or who would make fresh coffee at the Canada Houses before the first pot ran out. You could tell who were there for the right reasons just by the little things they did. There were people there looking to pay off their college and university loans, wanting to buy a car, and those that were there looking for love.
LOOKING FOR LOVE IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
Looking for love in a place such as KAF is a little unusual. Once there, you go into a survival mode of sorts. For me, and for every soldier I have spoken to, you get into some sort of a routine while overseas. Go eat, go work, go to the gym, eat again, watch a movie, eat again, hang out with friends, email home. It’s what keeps you busy, keeps you sane and keeps you from missing home and missing your loved one.
While it’s true you might find someone there you share a unique connection with, share similarities with, or share a common bond when it comes to hobbies or life goals, it goes without saying that under most circumstances you will not find your life long partner or your forever BFF. This goes for both men and women, those who are friends and those you wish to become more than just friends with. You begin living day by day, and after awhile you’re waiting for the day you can go home, and catch a break. And since not every soldier or civilian is there for the same amount of time, American soldiers are overseas for a minimum usually of 15 months for example, while Canadians are overseas for a minimum of 6, their reasons for companionship are become different.
As with everything, nothing is impossible. I know of one couple that has got married since returning and one couple that is now living together. I, am back where I belong.
Showing posts with label Afghanistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Afghanistan. Show all posts
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Friday, September 12, 2008
In Need of a Morale Boost
My whole time in Kandahar it was hard for me to feel emotion. My whole job depended on me to be happy, and boost morale. There was no time for me to feel lonely, sad, angry, or helpless. Although I was a retail attendant, my position required me to do more than just stocking shelves, ring things through the cash or the other listed requirements. I was there for morale and support to all the soldiers and civilians that were housed or came into KAF. I was good at my job; make that great at my job. I along with a couple other true handfuls could always it come up with ideas that would go above and beyond the regular daily moral boost.
Most times it was easy to be happy, put on my smile or a fake front no wonder what was going on in KAF or at home. I even managed to do it during the hardest times in KAF when it was the most important for us to bring morale to a new high. Ramp ceremonies were no doubt the toughest part of being overseas. Missing my family was manageable through letters, pictures, emails and phone calls, but ramp ceremonies meant that we lost someone that we were there to serve; it meant that someone who was there to serve their nation, our nation, had been killed. They didn’t just die, but rather had been taken from us. We knew that they would want us to go on, to remember them yes, not mourn for them, but continue on with the mission, continue to serve and do our job going above and beyond what our expectations and requirements were. I always came through in this, even after Shawn’s ramp, I was able to pull my composure together and open the store with a smile on my face.
In doing my job and putting my feelings aside it was sometimes hard to feel what I truly wanted in that moment. I could no longer cry when I felt hurt or sad and I became cold and emotionless in moments that would normally make me shed tears. I was in essence a wall at times. I became scared that when I went home that this wall would become permanent, or at the least very hard to break.
A week after I got home I got a tattoo to commemorate the soldiers and friends we knew that died or had been killed overseas, and also to commemorate the soldiers that had been killed during the six months I was overseas. The thought to me was emotive, and I had anticipated to weep the moment I seen the finished product, instead though I was happy, if even that. I realized in this moment that my wall had yet to be chipped away, I was fundamentally in that bubble I hear so much about.
After two weeks of being home, it is a hard-hitting day. It has now come to my sudden attention that I am not on vacation; I am not going back to Afghanistan to continue the job I did with such attention to detail and with such passion.
It is also September 11, the reason we are in Afghanistan right now fighting the “war on terrorism”. It is this war that has killed so many of our young troops, and it is today that our Prime Minister has announced that he is promising to “not extend the mission in the Afghan region past 2011”. It is to me and many soldiers a job that is unfinished in the Afghan region. The 97 soldiers that have been killed since the war started will have died in vain if our work goes unfinished, and the territory in Afghanistan cannot thrive before it is time to on its own.
Nearly a month after Shawn was killed in Afghanistan, and two weeks after my return home, I have mustered up the courage to try and get a hold of Shawn’s wife, my friend Lisa. I’ve been putting this off for lack of words to say to her. I fear that even when she does talk to me, she won’t want to because her husband and I came from the same place and even though had very different jobs; I am here, back in Canada, safe and sound whereas he is not.
It is today that I wish I could curl up in my husband’s arms, lie on his chest and cry. For today along with everything that is going on inside my head and inside my heart, I am missing my family, especially my kids, and it is today that I have found my emotions again. It is today that I am in need of a morale boost.
Most times it was easy to be happy, put on my smile or a fake front no wonder what was going on in KAF or at home. I even managed to do it during the hardest times in KAF when it was the most important for us to bring morale to a new high. Ramp ceremonies were no doubt the toughest part of being overseas. Missing my family was manageable through letters, pictures, emails and phone calls, but ramp ceremonies meant that we lost someone that we were there to serve; it meant that someone who was there to serve their nation, our nation, had been killed. They didn’t just die, but rather had been taken from us. We knew that they would want us to go on, to remember them yes, not mourn for them, but continue on with the mission, continue to serve and do our job going above and beyond what our expectations and requirements were. I always came through in this, even after Shawn’s ramp, I was able to pull my composure together and open the store with a smile on my face.
In doing my job and putting my feelings aside it was sometimes hard to feel what I truly wanted in that moment. I could no longer cry when I felt hurt or sad and I became cold and emotionless in moments that would normally make me shed tears. I was in essence a wall at times. I became scared that when I went home that this wall would become permanent, or at the least very hard to break.
A week after I got home I got a tattoo to commemorate the soldiers and friends we knew that died or had been killed overseas, and also to commemorate the soldiers that had been killed during the six months I was overseas. The thought to me was emotive, and I had anticipated to weep the moment I seen the finished product, instead though I was happy, if even that. I realized in this moment that my wall had yet to be chipped away, I was fundamentally in that bubble I hear so much about.
After two weeks of being home, it is a hard-hitting day. It has now come to my sudden attention that I am not on vacation; I am not going back to Afghanistan to continue the job I did with such attention to detail and with such passion.
It is also September 11, the reason we are in Afghanistan right now fighting the “war on terrorism”. It is this war that has killed so many of our young troops, and it is today that our Prime Minister has announced that he is promising to “not extend the mission in the Afghan region past 2011”. It is to me and many soldiers a job that is unfinished in the Afghan region. The 97 soldiers that have been killed since the war started will have died in vain if our work goes unfinished, and the territory in Afghanistan cannot thrive before it is time to on its own.
Nearly a month after Shawn was killed in Afghanistan, and two weeks after my return home, I have mustered up the courage to try and get a hold of Shawn’s wife, my friend Lisa. I’ve been putting this off for lack of words to say to her. I fear that even when she does talk to me, she won’t want to because her husband and I came from the same place and even though had very different jobs; I am here, back in Canada, safe and sound whereas he is not.
It is today that I wish I could curl up in my husband’s arms, lie on his chest and cry. For today along with everything that is going on inside my head and inside my heart, I am missing my family, especially my kids, and it is today that I have found my emotions again. It is today that I am in need of a morale boost.
Friday, September 5, 2008
A Celebration of Both Life and Death
September 4 - It is the day after a celebration of sorts. Today marks the day after my now thirteen year old son’s birthday. It also marks the second year our dear friend Shane’s death. I say death lightly as he was actually killed two years ago while serving in Afghanistan. Yesterday also marked the day that three more brave soldiers were killed overseas.
This year I am unable to be home with my son for his birthday. I am instead here in Toronto patiently awaiting my visa so that I can join him, my other son, and my husband in Russia. So instead of dwelling on the fact that there will be no birthday party for me to join in, a good friend of mine and I decided to take a trip downtown and lay flowers on a memorial site dedicated to all those who have died in either war or peacekeeping for Canada.
The site was not as we expected. Either we had high expectations, or we had the wrong spot. We had thought at the very least and from what we had read that the “War on Terrorism” memorial would have the names of those that had died for the cause etched into the wall. Instead there was a wall, beautifully etched artwork from past wars, but nothing commemorating Afghanistan and the efforts that are going on there. All over the park there were sculptures as high as the eye could see, one for firefighters, one for policemen, both with names of the fallen. To date we have lost 96 Canadian soldiers to the war in Afghanistan, less than the number of firefighters names etched into numerous marble walls, so certainly there would have been more than enough room on the huge wall that was displaying the depictions of WWI and WWII. Maybe it was something they planned for the future.
It is obvious that my friend and I did not need to put an etching to remember those we lost. Instead we placed our flowers, sat back, and remembered. For those we knew, and for those we didn’t. I am almost glad that no name was there to be read, for that would have meant reading something that was already etched in my head.
Yesterday was a celebration of Robbie’s 13th birthday, him becoming a teenager, him growing up and becoming a young man. It was a celebration of his life thus far and all that is to come.
Yesterday was a celebration of Chris, Gilles, Shane, Shawn, the other thirteen soldiers who never made it home during my six months stay in Afghanistan, and those three young soldiers that coincidently lost their lives yesterday. Yesterday was a celebration of their lives, their deaths, and those they left behind.
Today, I say CHIMO once again, for CHIMO in greeting or in goodbye, means FRIEND.
This year I am unable to be home with my son for his birthday. I am instead here in Toronto patiently awaiting my visa so that I can join him, my other son, and my husband in Russia. So instead of dwelling on the fact that there will be no birthday party for me to join in, a good friend of mine and I decided to take a trip downtown and lay flowers on a memorial site dedicated to all those who have died in either war or peacekeeping for Canada.
The site was not as we expected. Either we had high expectations, or we had the wrong spot. We had thought at the very least and from what we had read that the “War on Terrorism” memorial would have the names of those that had died for the cause etched into the wall. Instead there was a wall, beautifully etched artwork from past wars, but nothing commemorating Afghanistan and the efforts that are going on there. All over the park there were sculptures as high as the eye could see, one for firefighters, one for policemen, both with names of the fallen. To date we have lost 96 Canadian soldiers to the war in Afghanistan, less than the number of firefighters names etched into numerous marble walls, so certainly there would have been more than enough room on the huge wall that was displaying the depictions of WWI and WWII. Maybe it was something they planned for the future.
It is obvious that my friend and I did not need to put an etching to remember those we lost. Instead we placed our flowers, sat back, and remembered. For those we knew, and for those we didn’t. I am almost glad that no name was there to be read, for that would have meant reading something that was already etched in my head.
Yesterday was a celebration of Robbie’s 13th birthday, him becoming a teenager, him growing up and becoming a young man. It was a celebration of his life thus far and all that is to come.
Yesterday was a celebration of Chris, Gilles, Shane, Shawn, the other thirteen soldiers who never made it home during my six months stay in Afghanistan, and those three young soldiers that coincidently lost their lives yesterday. Yesterday was a celebration of their lives, their deaths, and those they left behind.
Today, I say CHIMO once again, for CHIMO in greeting or in goodbye, means FRIEND.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
For Shawn - Written August 21
It seems that every week here during my last month gives me a better appreciation for what my experience in Afghanistan has given me, the people I’ve met, what our troops do here, and most importantly what I have left at home for all of the above.
I had hoped that the ramp ceremony I attended a week ago would be the last one, then my worst fear came true. Ron, my husband knows a lot of guys here. A lot of the same guys he was here with are here again. I as well have come to know a lot of guys serving here, and you’re biggest wish for all of them, especially those outside the wire are that they will “stay safe”, a departure I always leave with them till the next time I see them, one I always left with my husband before saying goodbye to him on the phone, or through emails.
This is the same departure I had given to Shawn almost two weeks ago. I had seen him at New Canada House when I went up for a little relaxation, change of pace, and music from DJ Dusty. He was outside waiting for some friends and I thought it friendly of myself to take a seat and say hello. He was reeling, perturbed by a recent situation earlier in the day while outside. I listened and even giggled, the story while quite irritating to him and rightfully so, was still a little on the entertaining and amusing side to myself. He after all had gotten over it for the most part from what I can tell and was ready to sit with the boys and have a cigar, being back safe in KAF. I didn’t overstay my welcome, I said my hello’s, asked how Lisa, his wife and the girls were doing, etc. I at this point can’t remember half the conversation, although now I wish I could.
Today was the hardest day of my tour. Canadian soldiers were coming into the store rather bleak, one commented on the fact that it was a tough day for soldiers in Kandahar. With news of a comms (communications) lockdown, that could only mean one thing. Not long after I had learned that three soldiers were killed, all of them Engineers from 1CER in Edmonton, a scary thought considering we had just come from Edmonton only a couple years prior and had been there for five years.
I didn’t have to wait for long to find out one of the names of the soldiers killed. I had asked one of Ron’s friends’ who had come into the store. He clearly told me that one of the guys was on their last roto with them, a soldier by the name of Shawn Eades. I almost immediately excused myself; it was like a crushing blow to the chest.
You see Lisa and I knew each other from back in Edmonton my last year there. During the time that our husbands were in Afghanistan together, we were part of a group of women, “The Yellow Ribbon Girls” that had gathered to provide support to one another over the course of the six months that our husbands tour would see them overseas. We attended birthday dinners, Christmas dinners and secret Santa gift exchanges, coffee at each other’s houses, and martini nights. We all became very tight, and during that time saw one another through some very tough and trying times. Not all our husbands came home the same way they had left, although thankfully all came home. This time regretfully, would be different for Lisa.
Now only nine hours, I find myself sitting here, waiting; waiting for the comms lockdown to be lifted so that I can be reunited with the outside world. Waiting so I can try and get in contact with my husband to see how he is dealing with the news, waiting so that I can email Lisa, although I know she probably won’t get my email right away and probably for quite a many days away, waiting to read the news and find the names of the other two soldiers, and finally waiting to be able to post this little piece so that all of you reading can know that we have yet again lost another brave soldier, and that I am still here, and although a little changed and a little broken at the moment, am still thankful for my time in Afghanistan.
I had hoped that the ramp ceremony I attended a week ago would be the last one, then my worst fear came true. Ron, my husband knows a lot of guys here. A lot of the same guys he was here with are here again. I as well have come to know a lot of guys serving here, and you’re biggest wish for all of them, especially those outside the wire are that they will “stay safe”, a departure I always leave with them till the next time I see them, one I always left with my husband before saying goodbye to him on the phone, or through emails.
This is the same departure I had given to Shawn almost two weeks ago. I had seen him at New Canada House when I went up for a little relaxation, change of pace, and music from DJ Dusty. He was outside waiting for some friends and I thought it friendly of myself to take a seat and say hello. He was reeling, perturbed by a recent situation earlier in the day while outside. I listened and even giggled, the story while quite irritating to him and rightfully so, was still a little on the entertaining and amusing side to myself. He after all had gotten over it for the most part from what I can tell and was ready to sit with the boys and have a cigar, being back safe in KAF. I didn’t overstay my welcome, I said my hello’s, asked how Lisa, his wife and the girls were doing, etc. I at this point can’t remember half the conversation, although now I wish I could.
Today was the hardest day of my tour. Canadian soldiers were coming into the store rather bleak, one commented on the fact that it was a tough day for soldiers in Kandahar. With news of a comms (communications) lockdown, that could only mean one thing. Not long after I had learned that three soldiers were killed, all of them Engineers from 1CER in Edmonton, a scary thought considering we had just come from Edmonton only a couple years prior and had been there for five years.
I didn’t have to wait for long to find out one of the names of the soldiers killed. I had asked one of Ron’s friends’ who had come into the store. He clearly told me that one of the guys was on their last roto with them, a soldier by the name of Shawn Eades. I almost immediately excused myself; it was like a crushing blow to the chest.
You see Lisa and I knew each other from back in Edmonton my last year there. During the time that our husbands were in Afghanistan together, we were part of a group of women, “The Yellow Ribbon Girls” that had gathered to provide support to one another over the course of the six months that our husbands tour would see them overseas. We attended birthday dinners, Christmas dinners and secret Santa gift exchanges, coffee at each other’s houses, and martini nights. We all became very tight, and during that time saw one another through some very tough and trying times. Not all our husbands came home the same way they had left, although thankfully all came home. This time regretfully, would be different for Lisa.
Now only nine hours, I find myself sitting here, waiting; waiting for the comms lockdown to be lifted so that I can be reunited with the outside world. Waiting so I can try and get in contact with my husband to see how he is dealing with the news, waiting so that I can email Lisa, although I know she probably won’t get my email right away and probably for quite a many days away, waiting to read the news and find the names of the other two soldiers, and finally waiting to be able to post this little piece so that all of you reading can know that we have yet again lost another brave soldier, and that I am still here, and although a little changed and a little broken at the moment, am still thankful for my time in Afghanistan.
Thank you Shawn. Or should I say CHIMO.
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