The True Lesson

A few lessons learned.

Like, you can take a "shower" with only two bottles of water, if that's all you have. Also, when you're dealing with Iraqis, it's good to use phrases that contain the word "Allah." And don't use too much soap when washing socks by hand. You'll be rinsing forever. Check your boots for scorpions before you put them on. And never pick up a metal handled tool that's been sitting in the sun too long.

But perhaps the biggest lesson learned is that life offers no guarantees.

Being in a war zone makes you completely - totally - aware of your own mortality. We all know we're going to die someday, right? But certainly not today. Surely not now.

That's supposed to happen when we're old.
After we've married...
and had kids...
and a dog...
and grandkids...
and are retired...
all those things.
Only when we've accomplished all we wanted to in life.

But that's not to say you fearfully walk around dwelling on death all the time. Most of the time you don't even think about it. You just go about your daily business, but with the knowledge that we are all just passing through in this world. With the understanding that your visitor status can be revoked at any time.

When the mortars fall close, the explosion shakes the earth and rattles the walls. It's a deep, reverberating sound you feel all around you, all through you. It's like a bass beat from a stereo, a beat that you know has the potential to kill you. The shock wave throws the dusty fine Iraqi sand up in it's wake so that you not only feel it's destructive power, you can see it. Hot jagged metal flies by your head announcing it's passing with a buzz.

That's the moment you think about death.

When a bomb goes off under your vehicle the shock of the explosion throws you around like a rag doll. There's no sound just a concussion that stops your heart. If you escape with only bruises, cuts, scrapes and at least half your hearing you consider yourself lucky. There have been so many others who weren't nearly as lucky. Every time you have a close call you thank God and you thank the GM engineers.

That's the moment you think about death.

It's not so much that you think you're going to die in Iraq. It's just that you've come to understand how easy it really is.

To die.

How simple it is. How uncomplicated. How ordinary. So you make yourself promises of things to do when you get home. That's when you decide to live the life you truly want. That's when you form dreams that you hope can become reality. And that's when you realize that no matter how long you live - it'll be too short.

And those little things that used to seem like big problems just don't matter anymore. They just seem trivial. Because now, when you have a problem, you ask yourself, "Is this going to kill me or cripple me?".

If the answer is no, then it probably really doesn't matter.