A SOLDIER'S STORY

War is Insane

By
Franke Gracia

War is insanity. Complete, absolute, unmitigated insanity.

When I used to go to meetings at my civilian job we used to discuss curricula, class schedules, final exams, professional development, things like that. At a recent meeting here in Afghanistan, the following phrase was uttered, “We need to find that guy and we need to kill him.”

Crazy thing is, I was in complete agreement. As an educator, my job description used to be to help students; now my job as an infantry officer is “to close with and destroy the enemy with direct fires.” Pure and simple, I am engaged in organized murder, and I am amazed, and somewhat disturbed, at how comfortable I have become with this.

I’ll never forget that bone-chilling cold January day, all around me a sea of white. I was about to bug “out of the wire” when a young 82nd paratrooper informed me in a somber tone, “Sorry sir, heat’s out on the Hummer . . . it got shot.” He pointed to a hole in the vehicle where a bullet had torn through, knocking out the heating system. Now, Hummers don’t have a very good heating system to begin with, but every little bit helps, especially in the dead of winter in arctic Afghanistan.

Now, here’s the insanity of that situation: I wasn’t upset that I was about to go “outside the wire,” that I might get shot at, ambushed, or worse, blown up by an IED. That’s what happens in war, I’m OK with that. What upset me was the fact that, for the next several hours, I was going to be really, really cold. I guess I could relate to you what I actually said that day, but this is a family newspaper. Suffice to say I don’t think it’s a coincidence that “Army” is a four-letter word.

Only a soldier who has served in a combat zone in harsh winter conditions can understand the insanity of the following statement: I would rather get shot at in warm weather than go on a long cold mission and not get shot at. At least when you get shot at you can return fire, do something proactive, assail your adversary. The cold is an unrelenting, brutal, unmerciful, invulnerable tormentor. There is no chance for victory and no way of fighting back.

ou just suffer.

Then there was that rocket attack recently at a FOB (Forward Operating Base). To our delight, a band had been choppered in and was already set up to play in the Chow Hall. What’s more, the band was from San Antonio. From Texas. From home! The concert was to begin at 2000 hours (that’s 8pm for you civilians). Well, about 30 minutes prior to that, an explosion suddenly rattled my surroundings.

Again, consider the following lunacy: I wasn’t scared . . . I was annoyed! I thought, “No! Please, please let that be a controlled detonation.” I rushed outside to find out what was going on, only to hear a second round whistle overhead. That’s when my head dropped, my shoulders sagged, and I became very, very concerned. About the attack?

No!

About the concert!

As everybody ran to their bunkers, as the siren sounded, as the QRF (Quick Reactionary Force) spun up, as the mortars jumped into high gear to fire illum rounds, as I donned my body armor and ran to the JOC (Joint Operations Center) to assume my duties, one thought raced through everyone’s mind. . . “Oh my God, oh my God, will they cancel the concert?”

Thankfully, the “all clear” was given a short time later, we pulled the band kicking and screaming out of their bunker (just kidding, they were real troopers), and the concert went on as planned, with just a slight delay. The band, “Los Texmaniacs,” was unbelievable. I’m definitely getting one of their CDs when I get stateside, not just because they’re fantastic musicians, but because they traveled halfway around the world into a combat zone to play some bonafide Texas music to a bunch of homesick Texas soldiers. Bless their hearts.

“Los Texmaniacs” played all styles of music that night, but it was the Tejano and Conjunto music that brought tears to my eyes.

Again, how insane is that?

I get rockets fired at me and all I can think about is a possible canceled concert; then a band plays music that reminds me of home and family and I need something to dab my eyes.

Well, come to think of it, maybe that’s not so crazy after all.



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Franke Gracia lives in Temple, Texas and was deployed in Afghanistan with the National Guard from May 2005 to April 2006. He is a math professor at Temple College and is very close to his family that includes two brothers and two sisters. He earned a bronze star while he was deployed, which he gave to his mother. As to why he decided to write this series of articles he says, "I hope folks who read my scribbling will gain a greater appreciation of what a citizen-soldier goes through during a deployment."