My Personal Hell
Original Post Date: Aug 28, 2021 on Reddit
Everything you’re about to read is real and this is the best I can recall the events that took place. I will not share any real names, no real dates, this in my story and I don’t want to expose anyone that doesn’t want it, so all names will be fake if they need to be used. For those of you that have never seen a war from the frontlines, this is what it looks like, I’ll do my best to paint a picture. For those that have, my experience is nowhere near some of the stories I’ve heard. I consider myself fortunate to not have been deployed during the OIF campaign.
*takes a deep breath*
This mission lasted around 5 days, if I remember correctly. We moved out at night on the first day. Easily 6 miles with a metric shit-ton of gear, but not nearly as heavy as I’ve carried before. The mission we packed the heaviest, my ruck (a backpack essentially) weighed around 150lbs. The heaviest I have ever weighed is 145lbs, currently sitting closer to 130lbs for reference. Just standing up was a struggle, let alone walking miles with it on your back at night. I fell often, in fact, my squad was so used to me tripping and falling, we got to the point where we’d just laugh about my clumsiness, they’d help me up if they were nearby, and we’d continue on.
Back to the first night. Nothing exciting happened, we moved in at night and secured a perimeter around this building in the middle of nowhere, and waited for the sun to come up. We were securing an abandoned school so we could set up an observation post for some special forces unit. I wasn’t special forces, let’s get that straight right now. We set up around the school and as the sun came up, we started to move inside and secure it. Every day from then on, at about 5pm, we’d get shot at. It was nothing crazy, they were just harassing us, and they’re smart- they wanted to see how we would react, what we would do, and they studied us over the next couple of days.
The night before this story takes place, my squad went out to see if we could find the places we were getting shot at from, looking for brass casings on the ground, maybe dug-in positions, anything that could be used against us. As we sat outside the school holding guard, each of us were in pairs and I was paired with a Sergeant- we’ll call him Ky for this story. Ky and I had gotten to know each other throughout our deployment, he was attached to my squad as a Spotter with his Sniper counter-part. When you’re sitting in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the night, what do you talk about? Everything and anything that comes to mind. We talked about home, the crazy shit we had gotten into before the military, girls we’d dated, girls we loved, our favorite whiskey, our favorite music and artists. Everything that came to mind.
At this point, we had been deployed for about three or four months, we’d been shot at multiple times, were used to the conditions, and the people in our squad were brothers. I would die over and over again for each one of them without hesitation. I wish I contacted them more now that we’ve all separated, but I haven’t in a long time. The same guys that were on the squad at the beginning of the deployment were the same that would be on the squad at the end, all we did was get to know each other’s stories on missions. Ky was no different. I knew he was recently married to his high school sweetheart, I knew they were planning kids, I knew the things that close friends would know and my heart hurts for this every day.
The next day, we were prepared. 4pm rolled around and we were setting people up on the roof, we knew we’d get shot at, just like every day, and this time we weren’t just going to let them harass us. A platoon from 1st ID came out to help us secure this school, they brought trucks with bigger guns that what we could carry. Several .50cals and mk18s, and they positioned them in a half circle around the school, waiting for the first round to come in. Some fucking help that unit was. The school was shaped like a ‘U’ but flat on all three sides, closer to this I__I , I would’ve been on the bottom right corner with a mk48 machine gun by myself. Somewhat next to me was my roommate, and probably my closest friend, he had another machine gun, an m240 bravo. The guns aren’t really relevant, well.. mine might be.
5pm nears and everyone gets in position behind their weapons, the smoking and joking subsides. It was so quiet I could hear my heart beat in my ears. When you’re about to take contact, several things happen: it becomes eerily silent, all the kids that were out playing disappear, no one can be found, you always feel it before you hear it. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, the pit in your stomach, and the feeling that something just isn’t right. All those feelings led right up to the firefight that was about to commence, but that wasn’t the most important part. A sandstorm had been moving in all day, it wasn’t going to be anything too crazy, but it was enough to take our air support offline. All our birds went away, and they fucking knew it too.
Cracks and snaps start to mix in with the dirt being blown all over. When you’re getting shot at, you know it. But what you don’t know is where it’s coming from. In this scenario? Fucking everywhere. About 800 meters in front of my position and in nearly a half circle in front of the school, muzzle flashes started appearing. The only light thing we could see through the sandstorm. Everyone started returning fire. Time passes incredibly fast when your adrenaline is pumping, this firefight would go on to last 4 hours, and I only remember a few things happening.
My gun jammed. I went through the proper motions to clear the jam, fire, it jammed again. I repeated the process 5 or 6 times at least before something interrupted me. I heard someone call out an RPG and, when I looked up, I shit you not, this thing was coming right at me. I’d only seen them in video games, and that was no comparison.. I didn’t know what it was at first, but it felt like everything was in slow motion. I reached up for just a second to see how close it was. I felt like I could’ve touched it- a foot, maybe a foot and a half above my right shoulder. The slow motion moment ended when the rocket passed me, it landed right in the center of the building behind me. Later we would come to find out that my gun was considered “blacklined.” Unusable. The best possible time for it to break, and sure as fuck, it did. We would also learn later that that RPG landed where the ladder to the roof was (about 10 feet behind me), and there was definitely a guy standing on top of that ladder at the time. How he survived, I don’t know. That thing had to of blown up in his face and he easily would’ve taken a 15 foot fall backwards into the school courtyard, only to put the ladder back up and go back up to the roof.
My squad leader must’ve recognized something was wrong, he surprised the shit out of me when I felt him dive next to me and take cover. Running across this roof right now is insane, the guy was like 6’2, one of the biggest targets on the out there.. what a fucking badass. He comes over and starts trying to figure stuff out with me. He leaves me ammo and his m4 until we can figure my gun out, and then moves on to the next guy in the squad.
My eyes followed him, off to the right where he laid next to my roommate. I looked past them, on the opposite corner of the building to me, I saw Ky kneeling on one knee, firing 40mm grenades out of his launcher.
*another deep breath.. and here come the tears*
Ky fell backwards onto his back and scooted back, he had turned around and saw that I was looking at him. We made eye contact and he was waving his arm over his head at me, the whole thing, trying to give me a signal. I didn’t get it.. I didn’t understand his panic.. until his body went limp. Everything hit me at the same time, but the first out of my mouth was, “medic.” I whispered it at first, trying to process what I was looking at, not realizing how loud it was around me. And then, like a wave crashing down, the reality set in.. I screamed for a medic and pointed towards Ky. People started scrambling, his sniper counter-part hadn’t even noticed yet. It was me. It was only me. I watched the whole thing unfold before my eyes, I couldn’t look away.
I watched as my medic stripped him down, I could see the blood from where I was, I was in a trance.. Until someone slapped the back of me helmet. My squad leader was somehow on the other side of me, I must’ve looked shell shocked as fuck, but he brought me back. “Don’t look at it, we’ll find out what happened later, but right now you need to keep your head in the right place. What happened to your gun?”
“It keeps jamming, I can’t fix it.”
My squad leader starts messing with it only to realize what I said was true. He gave it back to me and said, “It follows you. Bring it in case we can fix it, but we need a gun over there.”
“In Ky’s position?”
“That’s the one, get ready to move, stay low and right on my ass.”
I nodded, knowing they were dragging Ky across the building and down the ladder behind me.
“MOVE!”
I grabbed my gun and sprinted with him across the roof, bullets were flying everywhere around us. Everything felt like a blur at that point, my mind was a mess. I don’t even remember getting to where I was.. but I remember.. Standing straight up when I got to the other side of the roof. All of a sudden, the bullet coming at me didn’t matter. People were yelling at me, telling me to get down, but I just stood there, staring at the ground in front of me. There was so much blood. Caked in the dirt, it was dark, but it was everywhere and there was no mistaking what it was. I looked at my squad leader, who was already laying down next to it, I just looked at him. He must’ve known I was asking him, “do I have to?” Subconsciously of course, because he nodded his head and grabbed my wrist. I only let him pull me to my knees, and then I laid completely down in Ky’s blood. From my chest to my knees, I could feel it. I didn’t cry, I didn’t do anything besides shoot back, I kept my head in the game until it was time for me to come off the roof. The gunfire didn’t subside until some time after dusk. We finally started getting air support after I came off the roof, it had easily been four hours and they were dropping bombs so close to us that the windows of the school were shattering from the shockwaves. It didn’t matter. Everything that mattered had already happened.
Before we go into my emotions and how I dealt with this, I need to explain a few things that happened.. we wouldn’t learn until later, but they are crucial parts of this and incredibly important to me.
1. I mentioned that 1st ID unit that came out to support us with this mission. Their trucks were set up, but not a single one of them fired back. I remember watching a bullet hit the glass in front of one of the gunners.. it was bulletproof, but that soldier ducked down inside of his truck and we didn’t see him for the rest of the firefight.
2. There were at least 5 of these trucks positioned to fight back, with their support, this could’ve ended much sooner. We found out later that most of their guns weren’t loaded. They didn’t even bring ammo for some of them. Let me tell you, if there is one thing that pisses me off, it’s when someone fucks their buddies over by actually being so fucked up that you shouldn’t have even deployed. When you’re in life and death situations and you fuck up this bad, my blame goes directly to you, every infantryman is only as good as their weapon, and you brought them unloaded? This was a grave mistake, if they took contact at all, they deserve everything that happened to them. You wouldn’t go swimming without a life jacket if you couldn’t swim.. Why the fuck are you bringing empty guns to a hostile area?
3. The officer in charge of that unit becomes a very key part in this story. That sandstorm wasn’t going the entire 4 hours that we were being engaged upon. But we had no air support, why do you suppose that is? When you’re the one making the calls, you can be one selfish prick and most people will never find out about it. Too bad when you fuck up this bad, everyone you screw over knows it. The officer was calling for indirect support the whole time, mortars. Mortars are inaccurate and have to be “walked in” by someone watching their impact. In a sandstorm, that’s fine. We can’t have birds anyway, but when the weather clears, why would you keep calling for indirect fire?
3a. The reason he did was because if you have to call a “danger close” fire mission, you get awards for that kind of shit. And he sure did. The reason we got air support was because of the guy on the ladder. He’s what was known as a Forward Operator (an FO). He was the one calling for the mortars, and after that RPG hit, he put the ladder back up and went back up to the roof. Another badass. When that officer continued to call for indirect fire, the FO eventually told him to go fuck himself and started calling for air support again, against the officer’s orders. You get in deep trouble for stuff like this, disobeying direct orders when you’re the lower ranking soldier. Especially in his job, I’d imagine. He was the reason that firefight ended, those bombs ended it, and we could’ve had them hours earlier.
4. This is more of a pet peeve than anything, but this is part of the whole experience. During this firefight, my squad was on the roof. Most of my platoon was on the roof. The unit that was there with us? They were inside the school, fucking off. I got pulled off the roof and immediately sent to a room inside the school where they were sitting. These fucks. They were laughing and joking like nothing had happened. Making light of a situation that they could’ve easily helped us with.. Anyway.. I was given a list of names, Ky’s name had an asterisk next to his.. I still have that list today I carry it with me as a reminder of this entire memory. The pet peeve of mine is that when that unit took our place on the roof, they had the audacity to start asking for nicotine and caffeine to stay awake.. Like they had helped, like they had a rough fucking day and should be rewarded for their efforts. It’s not easy to come by nicotine out there, everyone has it, but the good stuff only comes in the mail, it was very rare when you could get anything stateside, so I’m sure they were seeing what they could get, since the opportunity presented itself. You can’t stay awake and do your fucking job? You already failed at that anyway, how do you suppose you get pity or free shit from any of us? Want to know how you lose this Cowboy’s respect faster than anything? Do nothing and expect the world to cater to you, be entitled, work for nothing and expect handouts. Any shred of respect I held for that unit was gone.
Back to the story..
I was sick to my stomach. I took that list to the room my platoon slept in and started packing the rucksacks of the names on the list. I knew what it meant. Those were the people that were injured today, and Ky was in critical condition, judging by the asterisk by his name. Silently, I got their stuff together. I was quiet, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything, but I couldn’t’ show emotion. Not in front of everyone. If I cry, I’m weak, and I can’t let my brothers know I’m weak. Not now.
I packed their rucks, staged them outside the room, and then went to sit in the courtyard with my squad. Solemn faces, no words. Everyone was either dipping or smoking, the guys that didn’t smoke, started. I was doing both, my entire body was shaking from the amount of nicotine, but I couldn’t stop. I needed something, anything to take my mind off of everything that had happened. I wanted to be numb, to not feel everything I was holding on the inside. I couldn’t let my thoughts catch up to me, not until I could be alone.
Trucks pulled up. I had no idea they were coming, but I was so happy to see them when I started recognizing faces from my unit.. They were there to pick us up, and they took us to the nearest shitty, little base that they could. Everyone unloaded and just and waited inside our tent for the news. Solemn faces all around, no emotions, the calm before the storm. I knew. I already knew, and I just wanted my suspicions confirmed. Everything in my body was tired, but I was wide awake. I just needed to hear it.
Our platoon sergeant called everyone together, he explained that Ky had taken a bullet in through the right side of his torso and, what they assumed was, that it had ricocheted off the opposite side rib or his side plates, but it had ricocheted into his heart. He wasn’t dead instantly, but close to it. I only remember seeing emotion from my medic, he was having a rough time, and it was messing with me. Most machine gunners are given a secondary weapon, the reason we assumed was that if our gun ever stopped working, the m9 was there to defend ourselves. It was our last resort, at least until the last bullet, that one was made for my head until I wanted to be potentially captured, tortured, or killed. Fortunately, I was never in that position, but I wanted to mention it because it’s about to become relevant.
Shortly after my platoon sergeant announced the news, our base started taking rocket fire. The alarms went off and we started hearing explosions once again. “For fuck’s sake,” was the general mood as we all filed outside and into the bunkers. I was completely silent, except for the alarm and the explosions. No one wanted to say anything, no one knew what to say. When the alarms stopped, people filed back out of the bunker. I was sitting on some sandbags and didn’t move. My friends asked me if I was alright and I nearly lost it in front of them.
“Just give me a minute, yeah? I’ll catch up with you guys.”
Everyone left the bunker, and finally I was alone. I lost it. I was the same kid I was in school again, bawling my eyes out, drooling on myself, the ugly cry. I couldn’t ‘handle everything that had happened, I played through the events in my head. I watched Ky wave at me over and over again, I held my knees close to my chest and just let everything out. And then, the real dark thoughts hit me. He was married, they were going to have kids, a family. He had his whole life in front of him, with such promise.. so much life. Why wasn’t it me? It could’ve just as easily been me. Why wasn’t it? I’m a single soldier, my family loves me to death, but I had nothing going for me. If I would’ve been killed, I would’ve been missed by a few people.. But not like him. His support system was huge, he was much closer to his family, and he got mail all the time. His life was so much brighter than mine, and that’s all I could see right then.
I don’t remember how we got to the next part.. it’s still a blur. But I remember clearly drawing my m9 from my holster and pressing it against my temple, finger on the trigger, ready to join my fallen friend. I didn’t deserve to be alive, it should’ve been me. “Please, why couldn’t it have just been me?” The tears wouldn’t stop, I tried to get the strength to just end it, I didn’t want to live with this. These thoughts, these memories, it was too much.. then I heard someone walking through gravel towards the bunker. I panicked, immediately pulling the gun away from head just in time for one of my squad mates to walk into the bunker.
“There you are. Come on, platoon meeting, we’re waiting on you.”
He saw the gun in my hand. “You doing alright?”
I tried to act as natural as I could. “Yeah, just give me a second.”
He waited outside until I could compose myself, and then followed him back into our tent. I get caught every time I try to do something ‘wrong.’ I was always the one that got caught, and here it was, true again. But without him walking in that night, at that time, I don’t know what would’ve happened, but I was pretty committed to that action. My emotions were running the show, all my logical thoughts had disappeared.
The story ends here for those of you that wanted to read what one instance of combat was like. This was one of the worst days of my life, and always will be, I’m sure. But sharing these memories has helped me grow, it’s therapeutic. But I can’t end this post without the trauma and lessons learned, and there’s one more ‘norm’ I’d like to touch on.
We were required to meet with a combat counselor. As a platoon, as a squad, as individuals. We were told to tell her what we felt and to be honest, but we were also warned that if the notes she took appear that we aren’t “fit for combat” they would most likely send us home. One person was moved platoons and sent home early, the poor kid was shell shocked for the majority of the deployment, combat isn’t for everyone and you never know how you’re going to react until the first bullet goes off. Some people freeze up, others take charge, some of us just want to make sure we do everything possible to protect the people we care about. I didn’t say much to her, I said that I was the last one to see Ky alive. I cried in front of my platoon, I didn’t say anything more. I wanted to stay with them and I wouldn’t risk getting sent home on my own selfishness. Damn, I was stupid. When you don’t take care of your mental health, it will continue to decline, these things you hold in will weigh on you eventually and break you down. It took years before I finally went to therapy, and even then, I’ll tell you the only reason I went was to get my dog certified as an Emotional Support Animal so I could bring her to school with me.. In the end, she didn’t get certified, but I did get help.
Over the next few weeks, I searched for answers. I tried religion, I tried to read the bible but I only made it to page 9.. twice. I thought God might have answers for me in there. Your beliefs are your own, I won’t try to change your mind about them and we don’t need to discuss that here, I was raised Christian but hated going to church and never felt like any of it was interesting. I gave up religion right then and there. There were no answers for the question I had: “Why wasn’t it me?” No one could tell me that.
The traumas I took on were selfish. First, because Ky had such a happy life built and it was taken from him, I decided that I didn’t deserve happiness in my own life. I instead deserved the suffering of torturing myself because I survived. Torturing myself with the memories, seeking people that would love me but I could never be with, constantly making things harder for myself because I didn’t ever want to be happy if he couldn’t. I didn’t deserve it. And I thought the universe agreed, every relationship from this point on, I was cheated on until the last year or two, 5 different women in total. I would find unhealthy partners that would treat me horribly. Gaslighting, manipulation, the mind games, I never questioned it, because I thought I just deserved it. I was no angel, but compared to those girls, I was a saint. I treated them the best I could, and it always makes me wonder how another human being could be so terrible to someone. How could you cheat on someone two weeks into a relationship and then continue to date them for 9 months while they’re in Afghanistan, only to cheat on them again right before they come home? More stories for another time.
The second and last trauma I pulled from this, and I still have yet to get past this one.. The military changed my non-romantic relationships, friendships mostly. I have never been so close to so many people as I was with my platoon. We were real with each other, honest, they were the friends that had been through hell and back together. I could trust them with my life and could trust me with theirs. This is the one thing civilians will probably never understand the depth of, my civilian friends are good friends, but I would never expect them to put their life down for me. Whereas every single person in my platoon had signed their names on the dotted line. We offered our lives for this, if we had to make “The Ultimate Sacrifice” in the end and give everything in a war that meant nothing, we’d do it. Not for our country, but for the people standing beside us and for the ones we loved back home. Understand that someone has to do it, whether you’re drafted or you choose to be there, someone has to do this job.
There is a bond I haven’t had since I left the military, sometimes it can be found with other veterans, which is why we get along so well, but to know someone is willing to go the same length that you are to keep them safe is a beautiful thing. Maybe it’s the depth of BDSM relationships that appeal to me, but I find peace there with the right partners. Knowing they need me, knowing they want me there, knowing that I am who they care about. I’ve gotten off topic again…
The second trauma was that people in my life always leave, and I need to be okay with that. Whether they leave by choice or they are taken from me, they will eventually be gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. This is a reason for my passion, this is a reason why I am vulnerable for you all to read. After Ky’s death, I locked it all up, deep inside myself, telling myself that I’ll deal with it later. I stopped feeling emotions, I started numbing myself any way I could. Another time I should’ve realized I was Demisexual, I had one night stands only to end up alone and feeling worthless. When I did feel emotion, it was diluted, I couldn’t understand why until I was able to sort it out in therapy.
This led back to my first post. When I decided to become someone I wasn’t, when I decided that social norms were more important than my own mental health. I didn’t need to cry, tough guys don’t. I didn’t for years. I didn’t feel a fucking thing.
This is also why I’m writing. I haven’t been excited for something like this in years, probably because I was so damn numb all the time. But having people see me, all the messages and comments I’ve received, it’s something I would’ve never expected would come from posting on Reddit. To be honest, it’s something I thought could never happen to me. The way you see me is much different than the way I see myself. I was never popular, I was the kid that got made fun of, the one that gets called a pussy and cries themselves to sleep at night. I expected to be trolled, I expected not to be accepted, and I knew that going into all of this. But I have been met with some of the nicest and most genuine people, also some of you are just here to admire, which is perfectly okay too. But I appreciate those of you that have taken the time to read about me, and those of you that have gotten to know me. This is how I’m healing. I feel my emotions fully now, it hurts, but I can’t stop. The vulnerability, the fear and anxiety, all of it has been worth it for some of these interactions.
When I gave up religion, I didn’t realize how much my life would lack purpose. It took me years to finally find that purpose, and a very close friend of mine showed me what it was like to be accepted.. fully. I can’t get enough of the vulnerability, it still scares the shit out of me every time I post anything, but I need it. If I am not myself, then I don’t know who I am, and the only way I know how to be myself is to be honest about everything. Bearing my soul, I guess you could say. Thank you for making this all worth it, thank you for seeing me, and thank you to those who accept me.
For reference too.. I turned 21 right before this deployment. Many people still consider that to be a kid as far as your mental development goes, and I’m curious to what most people were dealing with at 21. Everyone’s perspective is relative to their experiences, you don’t need to compare yours to mine, but I believe the path I’ve taken was the one I needed to, if nothing else, to land me here.
Thank you to those that read this. It hurt a lot to write.. even re-writing it for a third time to post it here.. I cried during several parts again. Bringing up these memories is tough, but they’re very prominent in my mind still, and probably seared in there somewhere. It makes me happy to share them with you.
‘Til next time,
Cowboy