There is a calm that has settled in, not unlike the moments before it rains. The clouds cover the sky, a cool mist fills the air, and the sound of your voice seems to fall gently to the earth. It is a moment of reflection, to consider your place, and to remove yourself from the open to find cover. Today is that moment for these soldiers, as they spend their final hours with the ones they love.
How do you say good-bye? With tears and a smile. With hope and fear. With the dreams of past joys, and a lurking dread of a folded American flag. These are private moments, where the eyes speak the language that our words can never achieve. The soft touch on the cheek; the gentle kiss from his daughter; the strength of his fellow soldiers, as men fall to formation and love ones return home alone. These are the realities of war. The quiet places that never make the headlines, but that can make combat seem easy. Emotions are the soldiers greatest challenge.
Each of these men sits on the precipice of change. No matter what they experience, each of them will be altered. I am now one of them. Here to record their lives, I have entered this journey knowing that the person that leaves will not be the same person who returns. Yet change is not limited to the soldier. For those that remain behind will also be affected. Assuming lives without that loved one in their daily activities, their experiences and personal challenges will be no less important. It is not unlike a dance, in which the performing pair is each sent to a private stage to find the steps that they once shared together.
I watched as soldiers dined alone, or in company with their comrades. Others gathered to watch TV or play video games on their laptop. This was now their family. A unit not built by right of birth, but by the common bond of their mission. No one knows what awaits, yet each one wonders... even those that have served a war before.
Within each person there is a hero. A hidden strength that will find it's voice when it is needed most. Today, every one of these men and families are heroes. Not because of the duty they have accepted, nor the ideologies they support... they are heroes because they have placed their beliefs in a responsibility to a cause above their individual needs and desires. And in so doing, they have accepted the risk of the ultimate sacrifice... death.
In the hallways were huddled small groups, chatting, bonding, some sharing a last hug before their partner left for home. As I walked towards the drill floor, I noticed a young man propped against a table, tuning his Mandolin. "I can't play very well.. but we all have our passions." His fingers began to massage the strings as he shared the story of his song... a song he wrote and first played with his Dad. The hallway became his private chamber, and I his audience. As the music filled the space, and the images recorded to tape, tears welled with the melody that spoke so deeply to what we were all feeling.
The evening had became night, and the soldiers made their beds. Sleeping bags stretched on concrete floors, rucksacks used for pillows; each soldier was now on his own. Last minute checks from team leaders, distributing information on what would soon be their next home... Camp Shelby. At the edge of the assembly floor I met Sp 4. Clarcke. He was searching his cell phone for a number. "Did you say your good-byes." He looked up from his phone, "I didn't really say a proper good-bye. I was running late and all." His wife had dropped him off.
We have only moments in which to find life. We race about in our days, ignoring all but the things that are ultimately unimportant. Ask a solider who is about to leave, and he'll remind you of the most difficult part of deployment... saying good-bye. As a young Lieutenant stated in typical military directness, the good-byes simply "suck."
Copyright, Scott Kesterson- 2006
