Dodgebomb: Outside the Wire in the Second Iraq War by Darin Pepple

Author:Darin Pepple [Pepple, Darin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Darin Pepple
Published: 2021-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

It took a few days to return to “normal” or whatever Iraq-tolerable was. The Army had perfected taking away a basic human need, returning it, and then calling it a reward for a job well done. Make a man freezing cold for a day, and then give him a blanket. Let it rain on him for days, and then bring him indoors. Deny him bathing for a week and then give him a ten-minute shower. Maybe even hot water, if he’s on a FOB. Have him eat rations out of sealed plastic bags for a week, and then cook him up steak and lobster. Make him shit in a hole or a plastic bag, and then give him a porcelain toilet. Above all, it made a person appreciate what he had, and understand that his comfort threshold could always go lower.

Regular mail was a prime example of those luxuries. Because this was Fitz’s first tour he received numerous care packages and letters from home. Family and friends were still awed by the novelty of fighting overseas. Second and third tours did not receive the same attention.

Fitzgerald checked the mailroom the first day back and was pleased to find he had two care packages and four letters. He spirited his bounty back to his bunk, where he could safely open his loot unmolested. The care packages he received were crammed full with junk food. People back home naturally suspected delicacies and treats were in short supply, so they packed their payloads with candies, crackers, Slim Jims, canned items, and EZ cheese. TastyKakes and other pastries were the sweetest prizes. They also assumed the worst hygienically, so they sent soaps, deodorants, razors, and toothbrushes. In reality, the Army had been in Iraq for a while, so they weren’t that hard up on those toiletries. Regardless, no item went unappreciated or unshared among the men.

Enclosed in the packages or by themselves were also inquisitive letters. Family or friends had taken a moment and penned updates and questions — constantly asking, “How are you and how is it over there?” “Is it hot?” “Did you shoot anyone?” “What are Arabs like?”

The letters all repeated the same obligatory phrase: “Thank you for your service.” Fitz couldn’t understand that line. It was a sentiment he only would expect an elderly grandmother to say. It seemed to mean, “Thanks for doing what I cannot.” But almost anyone could help the war effort in some way or another. It struck him as a convenient, societal cop-out said by people shirking their civic duty. Imagine doing that back home during an emergency: “Help! There’s a fire in the neighborhood, and we need everyone’s assistance!” “Nah, I don’t want to, but thank you for your service.”

Yet, Fitzgerald knew it was more complicated than that. A problem on the other side of the world is harder to face. Families and obligations complicate things. Not everyone is a disposable, military-aged person or wants to fight. Civic responsibility and American pride are in decline.

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