On Flashbacks

Those Are Scary

Howdy,

Yesterday, midway through my workout, I had a flashback.

For those who’ve never had such an event, let me tell ya: they ain’t a lot of fun. I’ve been in some scary situations before, but flashbacks can scare the shit out of you—literally!

Point of Privilege - I’ve never pooped my pants while fighting, but I know many who have. It happens! They probably should tell you that somewhere along the way during training. I had a turret gunner in Afghanistan who would rip ass something awful when he got nervous. Bruh, yuck! But, man, I knew that the chances of getting hit were quite high when that happened. Our own little early warning radar system. Ain’t war grand?

It’s been about 10 years since I’ve had a flashback. The last time I had one was in the middle of a date (Sorry about that, Jessica). One minute, I was having a lovely conversation with a delightful and successful woman while trying to eat some northeastern seafood (yummy!), and then boom—I was in the middle of dressing a wound.

Not great, Bob. Not great.

And she could tell it had happened. I’m not sure, but I think I went and got a cig. I had been drinking, which doesn’t ever help, of course.

Anyway, these things are quite scary! I still finished my workout at CrossFit (bruh, of course), but after that, I had to sit in my car to ensure I was okay.

The thing about flashbacks, at least for me, is that I get confused about what’s real and what’s not. Which reality is the right one? It can get intense.

Luckily, I have the world’s most incredible wife, the lovely Charity, so I just called her, left my car at the gym, and then took an Uber home. (I had a great conversation with the Uber driver—an Ethiopian who came here on a refugee visa! The universe is a funny place.)

I think the trip to Vermont to greet Ahmadullah was likely the kicker. There was a traumatic moment in the whole ordeal for me — I won’t bore you with the details —and it got to me. I’ve learned throughout my time helping Afghans that trauma can occur even when you’re not in physical danger, which, to be honest, I never fully believed—-until I experienced it during the fall of Afghanistan.

Conducting ops a world away is sometimes worse than conducting them in Iraq/Afghanistan because nearly everything is out of my control.

Anyway, one moment, I was thinking about Shia death squads and how much I hate Iranian proxies, and the next moment, I was back in Baghdad. I’ve seen what those sons of bitches do to people. I still see those dead Iraqis, especially the women wailing out in horror. I’ll be honest (shocking, I know): I have quite a bit of blood lust when it comes to Iranian Quds Forces. I wish we would’ve killed more of them. To quote Hemmingway, “There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.”

I’ve done a lot of work on that trauma, but at this point in this little dance, I’ve just come to expect these things will happen to me. As the lovely Charity told me last night, “I think you should have a plan B when your demons rear their ugly heads.”

I married way out of my league, folks.

Flashback happen. I know how to deal with them. Don’t worry. I’m ok. I’m relaying all of this because these wars continue to haunt the men and women who fought them, especially those who are still trying to uphold the promise.

Tragically, upholding that promise exacts a toll that too many of us still bear.

Until Next Time.