I Screwed Up: I Didn’t Commit Suicide

Before I enlisted I used to sit and daydream; in these fantasies I would save women and children; rescue fellow soldiers; walk down a street in a far off land while being cheered by the grateful citizens. I think if the military could find a way, they’d feed you those kind of imaginings right along with the grub every day.

Reality sucks!

Boot camp was the beginning of the end; it didn’t take long for the ugly truth to sink in. Unless you’re a psychopath, war’s a bad dream, a nightmare that transcends sleep.  

The first few days in Afghanistan were incomprehensible, but thankfully there were seasoned veterans; they told me to listen to what they had to say like it was the gospel; or….be killed. The dreamy state that had convinced me to enlist has rapidly departed and now my surroundings….if this isn’t the netherworld I don’t know what is.

I really can’t say how long it took before people and events became distorted. I can’t remember nor do I really want to recall how many “kills” I have; what’s become more painful is the persistent knowing that I’ve slaughtered innocent women and children; collateral damage as command likes to nonchalantly say.

I’m not going to lie and say I hadn’t thought about the fact that I’d be massacring innocent people along with the enemy, it’s just that thinking about it and actually doing it….nobody can prepare you for that.

If somebody did discuss the implications of legal homicide for my state of mind I don’t recall when. But I have thought: why would they? If new recruits knew the truth, many couldn’t bring themselves to pull the trigger; much less be there to do it.

Most days I don’t eat, and sweet sleep is a distant memory; I got some meds, plus I got the ones that new recruit won’t need anymore; I think they help but….everything just seems more distorted; I’m going to take a few more, maybe I’ll be able to sleep…I gotta get past this pain, I need strength!

 I think I took too many meds!

You stupid grunt! You’re dead!

Damn!