Bags packed, rifle in tow, uniform on, I boarded a plane.
Anticipation warmed the heart; apprehension gripped the throat.
My destination was known; my expectations were not.
Within minutes I was airborne en route to a foreign land

To fight a war against an enemy I knew not.
These battles would take place in a faraway country,
Miles from home, miles from family and friends.
Miles from the comfort and safety of my bed.
This was to be a war I barely understood, and more so, unclear of my role in it.

Wheels up in North Carolina.
A mid-flight fueling over the Atlantic Ocean.
Wheels down in Germany. Wheels down in Qatar.
Wheels down in Afghanistan.

Stepping off the plane I was hard and stiff.
In this moment I was more vigilant and eagle-eyed than ever.
My head was held high, pride spilling from my pores for the flag on my right shoulder.
I observed the terrain; nothing but mountains and desert.
F-16 Fighter jets flew overhead, I barely noticed.

I had finally arrived, like thousands before me, safely entered theater,
This desolate country, my home for the next twelve months.
I aimlessly observed my watch.
The countdown had begun.

The heat was unforgiving, relentless, and cruel.
Always beating down on the neck and back,
Slapping me in the face, mocking me as I lunged forward.
Hydration was my only defense; my only shield of protection.
Water was a precious commodity that was certainly not wasted.

For me, worse than the heat was the dust.
Dust invaded the crevices of my body like a termite infested log.
First my eyes, mouth, then nostrils. It was unavoidable and inevitable.
I would later discover deposits of dust and sand in my ears and hair.

After so much time in country,
Hours quickly turn into days, days into weeks, weeks into months.
I cannot ever recall knowing what day it was; time was irrelevant.
The mission was all that mattered.
Staying alive took the passenger seat.

Accepting that personal hygiene was a lost cause,
A battle not worth fighting, just out of reach, was difficult for me.
However, I found there were far worse fates than dusty faces and dirty hands.
Everyday there were reports of the alternative.

Unlike many others, I found unspoken beauty in this geography.
The simplicity, the lack of complication and technology.
There was no pollution, clear skies, hypnotizing sunsets, and a moon calling my eye.
The mountains most of all demanded and claimed my attention.
I delightedly obliged and relinquished my gaze.

Work for my brothers and I never stopped; duty twenty-four hours a day.
Seven days a week running dangerous missions,
Always pushing forward; never falling back,
Never taking a knee, always holding our breath, waiting for the call to arms.

Sleep is for the weak,
Sweat saves blood,
Never stop, never quit,
Death from above.

I gazed intently upon several objects.
The red, white, and blue flag on my shoulder,
And the strip on my chest that bore my last name.
Careful and cognizant to not bring discredit to either.

Conscious of many things.
Conscious that my actions reflect my country.
Conscious my demeanor affected my fellow Soldiers,
Conscious complacency kills.

I respected every Afghan National I encountered.
I returned Mohammed’s goat. I did not look upon Karim’s wife. I ate the tainted kabob.
I minded my manners and their culture. I was fair and honest, always.
I never called one a friend, and never fully trusted a National.
My enemy was unique, it wore no uniform and they were not easily discernable.

I fought a war of insurgency,
A war of unseen dangers and hurdles.
I valued my life, my enemy did not value his in the same sense.
This is where we most differed, we both fought, but for different causes.

I fought in the name of Democracy, capitalism, and personal freedoms.
I fought for the rights of all men and women, and equality for all.
My enemy fought in the name of his God, his history, and his customs.
My enemy fought to fend off invaders and hold back infidels.
We both fought for what we believed to be worthy and righteous.

At times, I ask myself, were we really that different?
What would I have done if placed in their sandals?
Did they really understand my motives and agenda?
What if my country and I were wrong about everything and this has been in vain?

If any people, especially ones so different from my own,
Invaded my homeland and wrought havoc like I assisted in doing,
In whatever name and for whatever reason or cause,
I cannot honestly say that I wouldn’t have behaved the same way.
I still lose sleep and am plagued with the turmoil of these thoughts.

For all that, I am still a believer. I believe in many things.
I believe in the values of our great nation and in the power and effort of teamwork.
I believe in my causes and my justifications for them.
I also believe my heart was in the right place during this conflict.

Every day in country was a struggle.
Each new beautiful sunrise brought a variety of new challenges.
I welcomed these hurdles and looked forward to them.
No two days were ever the same. I was thankful for this gift as it was a blessing.

Monotony and complacency numbed the mind.
Routine was welcomed, tediousness was not.
Soldiers long for change, we long for new experiences,
Even while out of uniform and the service.
I willingly signed a blank check to Uncle Sam in my own blood.

I made sacrifices daily and so did my family.
I never complained and I always drove on with my tasks.
I was a part of something larger than myself.
I did as I was ordered, I rarely asked questions.

Support for me from abroad was unprecedented.
I waited for my mail with the eagerness of an expecting mother.
Care packages, letters and pictures:
These were the fuel that I needed to keep my tank filled.
These were the reminders that kept me alive.

As time passed, as it always does,
I noticed small and large changes in myself.
My skin was bronzing, my outlook on life evolved.
I learned to appreciate the small things and no longer take anything for granted.

Warm water, hot meals, and plumbing are recognized.
Beer, hamburgers, and pizza are welcomed.
Wet kisses, deep hugs, and warm cuddling are coveted.
Life is simpler when you appreciate the small things.

I am no longer a Soldier or Paratrooper.
I am not the same man who boarded a plane with rifle in tow.
I have irrevocably been changed; I am a combat Veteran.
I will always wear that badge with pride, honor, and distinction.

I protected my brothers and completed my mission.
I behaved honorably and fought bravely.
No one can take this from me, under no circumstances, ever.
For an entire year I was nothing more than a heated, dusty hourglass.

My brothers and I answered our Nation’s call.
We bonded like only brothers-in-arms can.
We may have lost track of one another after that deployment,
And more deployments may have come and gone,

But we will never forget what we have seen with one another,
Nor will we forget the mountains trekked and shallow holes slept in.
We will never forget the smell of gunpowder and taste of dirty sweat.
No amount of heat can melt away the dust storms we endured during that time.

# # #

William J. Williford wrote this poem in the Hindu Kush mountains of Afghanistan in 2010 while serving as an American Paratrooper and Soldier overseas.

Photo: Skeeze