Welcome to Balad

We had seasons in the sun...

Here it is the 8th of December already! Wowza. How on earth did it not get here any quicker? I mean, when I'm on leave, time passes at least twice this fast.

I've been all caught up in preparing the way for my replacement. If I do my job right, she'll slide right in here and things will be so easy for her to pick up, and she'll take for granted the groundwork that has been laid for her. (Yes, it's another "her," and the officer I replaced was also a "her." The line remarks* for the AF to fill this particular slot must say "estrogen required.")

* The manning documents list the specialty required for each slot, and if they absolutely must have a specific skill level, it's entered as a "line remark." I'm not sure what skills in particular estrogen brings to the job. Maybe it just offsets the testosterone.

I put Jeff on a plane to Al Udeid yesterday. *sniff* I mean...hurray for him and everything, no doubt, but...call me selfish. He's my buddy. Of course, I'm only a week behind him, so I'll probably bounce right back from my abandonment issues.

Before deploying, we're advised to avoid any expectations of what home will be like when we return, and to be aware that the a period of readjustment can be difficult. You think, "How hard can it be? I mean, I'm suddenly not working every waking hour and not getting shot at. I'm back with my loved ones and my pleasures and pasttimes." The idea of going back home being difficult sounds a bit ridiculous, doesn't it?

We've been getting briefings designed to brace us for what might await us. They all warn us to not go back with idealistic expectations--even if we left an idealistic home in the first place. I'm beginning to understand why this is.

The stresses we undergo here aren't really worse than the day-to-day stresses of home. They sound worse, but in reality, they're just different. Over time, you get used to being a target of opportunity, because you learn to simply accept that there's nothing you can do about it. The constant work is a gift as it keeps you from going crazy.

Life here is very simple: you wake up, you eat, you work, you eat, you work, you eat, you sleep. Sometimes you exercise or play games, and sometimes you duck and cover. The stress when you first arrive is unbelievable--you can see it in everyone. But after people have been here about a month, realizations kick in and they relax. Not much bothers them after that.

Compare this, then, with the stresses of home (depending upon the situation you're going back to). Let's say you're married and have children. You have bills and inlaws and the politics of work and things to fix and vehicles needing work and the lawn to mow and school to get back into. Maybe your children are having problems in school, or your spouse has undergone changes you aren't braced for (because he/she has learned to live without you).

You're leaving an environment (here) where life is simple and structured and there really isn't anything to worry about, because the only thing worth your concern cannot be altered by your worry. You're entering an environment where things (presumably) can be corrected by your interactions and decisions, where things aren't structured anymore. You aren't getting shot at anymore, but you are paying creditors and dealing with domestic issues. Everything back home matters more deeply on a personal level than anything here.

The more I think about it, the more I understand why going home can be more stressful than deploying--and that is even assuming you're returning to a happy home.

As my ex-commander was fond of saying: the secret to happiness is lower expectations.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, I'm training a new captain. He's smart, he's motivated, and he's deployed before. He'll do a great job. My replacement will be here Saturday. I'll be on a plane Tuesday. With any luck, I'll get a lift straight to Germany (I'm one of the few that has been spared that extra loop back through Al Udeid, so I took the liberty of alerting an old friend at Ramstein that I'd be through soon, so my entertainment and later ride to the Frankfurt airport are set with a phone call).

The Primaquine I was given to take for two weeks has my stomach cramping and I'm taking antibiotics to conquer what appears to be a form of pneumonia from breathing the Iraq polluted air, but I'm one of the happiest miserable people around, because....five more days and a wakeup, and this will just be a bad memory.

d