Although I knew that Faris would take the Kirkuk route this time to get Erbil, I just wanted to ask that question to break the early morning silence. Travelling routes between Erbil and Baghdad were few, Baghdad-Kirkuk-Erbil or Baghdad-Mosul-Erbil being the only options. As far as I was concerned, either route was extremely dangerous. Each route had different terrain and peculiarities, yet they shared a similar distance and the fear of hidden and expected attacks. These areas were essentially insurgent territory, which had become notorious for many roadside bombs, drive-by shootings, fake checkpoints and thuggery.
Following Operation Iraqi Freedom, these roads and surrounding areas were never safe and secure. However, there were days when …show more content…
The sudden pressure of the bang caused my ears to whistle. Yet, I could see clearly as if everything moved in slow motion. Faris twisted the steering wheel and struggled with one hand as the car waggled from side to side, but he eventually managed to straighten up the car. I couldn’t concentrate as thoughts began to accelerate inside my head without making sense: “Are we bombed?” “Are we shot?” “Anyone got hurt?” I couldn’t discern what had happened. I could see my mom waiting for me at the door and smiling to me like an old mixed tape in front of my eyes, as if I was dreaming with my eyes wide open. But, all hopes were replaced with feelings of despair, helplessness, and most of all, fear. In the middle of these wild thoughts, a chilling wind was blowing inside the car, it felt like a walk-in …show more content…
But, when I shared my own story of the hot shell casing with him, we both laughed unstoppably. The situation might be inviting to laughter, but not for one who lives in the trauma. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t laugh because the situation was funny. My laughter was primarily motivated by fear; the fear of shame. Non-soldier readers who have never experienced the woes of war, they might regard military combat thrilling and glamorous, but war is neither exciting nor glorious. It is monstrous; its very nature is one of tragedy and suffering. Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried would be the best answer for those who dream of war glory and courage. He says, “They carried their reputations. They carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.” Soldiers’ greatest fear is not being wounded or killed, but blushing. This is certainly a very human behavior, but it isn’t often told during war. I understand that I wasn’t a soldier, but I could feel like a true soldier who often keeps his deepest struggle in waging war to himself. It was my own war in which my reputation became more important than life itself. A gun got fired, but not by a real enemy. I was “hit,” but not wounded. At some point, I thought I would keep the shell as a souvenir, but I realized I didn’t need it since the incident has deeply carved in my
Following Operation Iraqi Freedom, these roads and surrounding areas were never safe and secure. However, there were days when …show more content…
The sudden pressure of the bang caused my ears to whistle. Yet, I could see clearly as if everything moved in slow motion. Faris twisted the steering wheel and struggled with one hand as the car waggled from side to side, but he eventually managed to straighten up the car. I couldn’t concentrate as thoughts began to accelerate inside my head without making sense: “Are we bombed?” “Are we shot?” “Anyone got hurt?” I couldn’t discern what had happened. I could see my mom waiting for me at the door and smiling to me like an old mixed tape in front of my eyes, as if I was dreaming with my eyes wide open. But, all hopes were replaced with feelings of despair, helplessness, and most of all, fear. In the middle of these wild thoughts, a chilling wind was blowing inside the car, it felt like a walk-in …show more content…
But, when I shared my own story of the hot shell casing with him, we both laughed unstoppably. The situation might be inviting to laughter, but not for one who lives in the trauma. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t laugh because the situation was funny. My laughter was primarily motivated by fear; the fear of shame. Non-soldier readers who have never experienced the woes of war, they might regard military combat thrilling and glamorous, but war is neither exciting nor glorious. It is monstrous; its very nature is one of tragedy and suffering. Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried would be the best answer for those who dream of war glory and courage. He says, “They carried their reputations. They carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.” Soldiers’ greatest fear is not being wounded or killed, but blushing. This is certainly a very human behavior, but it isn’t often told during war. I understand that I wasn’t a soldier, but I could feel like a true soldier who often keeps his deepest struggle in waging war to himself. It was my own war in which my reputation became more important than life itself. A gun got fired, but not by a real enemy. I was “hit,” but not wounded. At some point, I thought I would keep the shell as a souvenir, but I realized I didn’t need it since the incident has deeply carved in my