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Iowa Writes BRIAN CHAMBERS As I walk from headquarters across camp to the guard tower all I can think about is that there are only two weeks left. I am sick of the sand, the wind, and the dust, and the only place I want to be at is Fort Living Room. The f-ing new guys (FNGs as we call them) arrived yesterday and the Commander gave me the in-briefing detail. As the wind picks up and drives sand against my face, I remember when I was an FNG. I was scared as hell. We were supposed to run convoy security, and this sergeant by the name of Zavacki had been assigned to train us before he rotated back to the States. For some reason he had singled me out from the squad. "You see that sign there right there, Corporal?" he said. It couldn't possibly have been a year already. I was promoted after Zavacki left; I took over the squad. They were back at the hootch now, standing down, waiting to help train the replacements. We started with six and we were now five. Hooker took a round in the neck eight months into the deployment. He was fumbling for a piece of gum when he should have been watching the windows. It was supposed to be a quick run that day to Taqaddum, but the decision to take the shorter route through the heart of Ramadi made it a dangerous one. Hooker knew this; we all knew it. The debris of bombed buildings lying in the street made it slow going and the buildings that were left standing sat close to the street‚? too close. As we navigated around the debris all eyes were on the windows. I risked a glance at Hooker‚ our gunner‚? and at the same time I saw him look down and reach inside his vest. "Hooker!" I yelled, but it was too late. In the split-second that Hooker looked down, the sniper pulled the trigger. We lit the window up from where the sniper fired, but little good it did Hooker, he was already dead. I sent a letter to his father. I was told later that almost the entire town had shown up for the funeral. It didn't make any sense. A piece of gum. Life in the desert isn't easy but there were moments and we made the most of them. My squad, as well as a few others, built a basketball court to kill some time between missions. Three-on-three ball games, some volleyball and poker pretty well occupied the down time. And of course there was the training; it was endless. "Keep the Blade Sharp" was our mantra and, in order to survive, countless repetitive exercises were required. The result was a finely trained squad, each member an extension of the others. It kept us alive through countless convoys, except, that is, for Hooker. Gum. Why did he have to have it? Didn't he remember the sign? If he had just kept focused, I would have bought him all the damn Beech-Nut he could have chewed. I will visit his father when I get back home. I will tell him Hooker was a fine soldier. I won't tell him about the gum. The FNGs are standing at the base. They are waiting, and then they stiffen as they see me. I pick one out, the soldier on the end. "Corporal?"
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About Iowa Writes Since 2006, Iowa Writes has featured the work of Iowa-identified writers (whether they have Iowa roots or live here now) and work published by Iowa journals and publishers on The Daily Palette. Iowa Writes features poetry, fiction, or nonfiction twice a week on the Palette. In November of 2008, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) designated Iowa City, Iowa, the world's third City of Literature, making the community part of the UNESCO Creative Cities Network. Iowa City has joined Edinburgh, Scotland and Melbourne, Australia as UNESCO Cities of Literature. Find out more about submitting by contacting iowa-writes@uiowa.edu BRIAN CHAMBERS Brian Chambers, of Eddyville, is a life-long Iowan who retired from the military with twenty years of service. He is currently attending Simpson College in Indianola, majoring in English with a history minor. |
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