JimFormation

My sister’s husband is on his way back to Iraq now. He’s a family guy who is in the Army National Guard.

He’s been home for a couple of weeks. I had dinner with him last night.

Before he was allowed to come home he had to decompress for two days in Kuwait. “They taught us how to be people again,” he said. “They told us not to kill our wives.”

“He reaches under his arm for a gun that isn’t there all the time,” my sister reported.

I have a beard now and told him that I was going upstairs to shave. “I don’t need you flashing back and seeing me as a bad guy.”

“No. They look like us,” he said. “Most of them don’t have beards. You’re safe.”

My bro-in-law is guarding prisoners in Iraq. I think he’s in with the hardest of the hardcore “insurgents.”

He says, “The Iraqis hate us there. But the Sunnis hate the Shi’ites more than they hate us. So at least we have that.”

His lives in a prison cell in one of Saddam’s private jails. “There are no windows; it’s pitch black. On my day off I sleep until I wake up and, because it’s so dark there are no cues to wake up. I have no idea what time it is. It’s not unusal to sleep until 2pm.”

He calls his hole-in-the-wall “home.” Even as he left my house he said, “I’m leaving for ‘home’ tomorrow.” It upset my sister a little, “This is home,” she said gently touching his shoulder. “Yeh, that’s right,” he responded somewhat blankly. Psychologically, all he has when he’s there is that cell. It’s the only place where he has any reminders of his real home. Like “home base” in a kid’s game of tag. Home. Safe.

He works 12 hour days, six days a week.

I asked what he did on his day off. “Most guys play video games. Guitar Hero is the biggie; I don’t play. On my day off, I get a pizza and a movie, and then go back to sleep.”

“Everything else is awful there, Jim. There’s nothing fun. Nothing worth doing. Just ride out your time.”

They like getting packages from home. My sister sends something out once a week. “She’s great that way,” he gleamed.

“Yeh, but tell him about your mother,” my sister rolled her eyes.

“Oh! Man! My mom called this place in the Florida Keys and sent over three boxes of key lime cookies. Oh. My. God. They were the best. I still have guys knocking on my door asking if I have anymore cookies.”

“How many packages has she sent you?” Asked my sister.

“One. But it was great!”

She teased him for a while about that. Mom sends out one goodie and gets heaped praises; while wife diligently and lovingly does her duty and, well, you know the story. It’s a marriage, right?

My wife asked, “What do you guys need? What would you like me to send you?”

“Key lime cookies.”

“Other than that.”

“Pop Tart! We can’t get enough Pop Tarts!”

Bro-in-law ended by saying that he can’t wait to get back to Iraq. “Then I’ll be at the top of the mountain. The rest of my time will be coming back downhill. I should be home, really home, in May.

Godspeed, My Brother.