Back from Iraq... at least until next week.
My cousin, PM, called me today to let me know that he was in town for a couple of days. PM has been in Iraq for the past six months and is on leave for a couple of weeks, so I was happy to get his phone call.
PM lives in Pennsylvania on an army base, where he has spent many years. He has worked in the US Army for several years, seeing this war in Iraq and the Persian Gulf War as well. I remember when he went to the Persian Gulf the first time, but he and I were distant then. It was only in the past few years that we have become close. He has become the brother that I never had. He and I are so different in so many aspects, and yet our bond is so close that people mistake us for siblings rather than cousins.
On my birthday last year, PM called me from somewhere between Fallujah and Baghdad. Although the connection was horrible and the few words that I could hear over the line echoed, I knew it was him, and it made my birthday ten times better just hearing his echoing voice.
He is set to leave town, probably tomorrow, but the hours that we found time for today – drinking beer and shooting the shit – were… gah, I hate to say it but… precious and invaluable.
I have many problems believing in this war and why we fight it. I always find it difficult though that PM is there. He is there because he chose to be. He is there because of his experience… because he does not want to see the kids that he leads get “FUBAR,” and not come back to this country… to their families and friends. I don’t even pretend that I can speak for him, but I know that he is a good man. I respect the reasons that he is there. I respect him and admire him more than he can ever imagine.
PM is My Drug.
PM lives in Pennsylvania on an army base, where he has spent many years. He has worked in the US Army for several years, seeing this war in Iraq and the Persian Gulf War as well. I remember when he went to the Persian Gulf the first time, but he and I were distant then. It was only in the past few years that we have become close. He has become the brother that I never had. He and I are so different in so many aspects, and yet our bond is so close that people mistake us for siblings rather than cousins.
On my birthday last year, PM called me from somewhere between Fallujah and Baghdad. Although the connection was horrible and the few words that I could hear over the line echoed, I knew it was him, and it made my birthday ten times better just hearing his echoing voice.
He is set to leave town, probably tomorrow, but the hours that we found time for today – drinking beer and shooting the shit – were… gah, I hate to say it but… precious and invaluable.
I have many problems believing in this war and why we fight it. I always find it difficult though that PM is there. He is there because he chose to be. He is there because of his experience… because he does not want to see the kids that he leads get “FUBAR,” and not come back to this country… to their families and friends. I don’t even pretend that I can speak for him, but I know that he is a good man. I respect the reasons that he is there. I respect him and admire him more than he can ever imagine.
PM is My Drug.
posted by trog at 10:37 PM
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