On All My Motions

 
This was a drill weekend for my unit. Relatively light — two days at home station, completing paperwork and checking the boxes on required briefings — but we’re coming down to the wire. Only two more drills remain before we go on mobilization orders: a four-day field exercise with as many things as they can throw at us, and a one-day drill to relax us and have a family picnic before we assemble a couple of weeks later to start downrange.

This is probably a really good time. The success in Iraq has to have stunned even its most ardent supporters: NO responsible person could have predicted how well things would work out, or how quickly. Last month, more soldiers died in-theater in vehicle accidents than from hostile action. And, for a change, I’ll be located at (not with, but alongside) our company’s headquarters, in duties that are unlikely to expose me to any significant danger. Except for my time at Guantanamo, this will probably be my least hazardous deployment.

However, it is still technically a combat theater, and things can change for the worse just as quickly as for the better. We’ve been enjoined to be ready for shift in mission, in location, in intensity, in duration. Even if this goes as steadily as seems likely, we increase the odds of a favorable outcome by being thoroughly prepared to deal with any adversity that might pop up.

I love this life. I take it seriously, though, and we’re approaching the time when seriousness will be called for.

 
No Thanksgiving news per se, just latest stuff in my life.

( First cut — Military Issues )

( Second cut — Fanfic Issues )

( Third cut — Family Issues )

Okay. Let’s see if I can get some more writing done.

 
Busy with this and that. Among other things, the alternator on my car went out suddenly, making it necessary for 1) our son to drive me and Susan upstate to get her to the VA for her scheduled shift, 2) me to drive our son back to center-state so he’d have a car to drive to and from class, and 3) me to wait around for the alternator to be repaired, then drive back to rejoin Susan. Updates under the cuts.

( Military Issues )

( Personal Issues )

( Fic Writing Issues )

Life is not all I would wish it could be. But it ain’t bad.

 
It was seven years ago.

It’s common to say that the events of that day changed the nation, changed the lives of all who watched the footage, whether or not they lived in the city or knew any of those who died. That it had an effect is undeniable; charting those effects can be a process somewhat more vague.

Not in my case, though.

On September 11, 2001, I had been divorced for four years. I had finished a Master’s degree the month before. Within a few weeks I was to move from the center of the state, where I had lived since 1994, to the upper corner, to be closer to my family. I was involved in a new relationship (with a woman far too young for me, but there were circumstances that made that a chance worth taking even though I knew the odds weren’t on my side). My ex-wife was trying to become a Methodist minister, and my son wanted to do the same.

Now my first wife is my second wife, and both she and my son have joined me in the Catholic Church. My wife and I are living again in the area we left twenty years ago, just before our son was born. I’ve served with the U.S. Army in three foreign deployments — two of them combat theaters — and am scheduled already for a fourth tour. Because of prior service, I’m three years from qualifying for a military pension, though my current intent is to remain in service for at least five more years, possibly seven. We mean to travel in the years between now and then (working around further deployments), and in the years following. Our plans include the Netherlands, Medjugorje, Alaska, Tanzania, and Costa Rica.

All those things can be traced, directly or collaterally, to what began seven years ago.

I had never been outside the contiguous United States; now I’ve been to eleven foreign countries (though two of those were only airport stops). I had never served on active duty orders, nothing past the annual two weeks in the summer; now I am, literally, a decorated combat veteran. I had spent five years preparing for a career in medical information systems; now I study Arabic and Farsi, and just bought a rifle so I can practice marksmanship in the times between official training at the firing range. I worried about my former wife — in my opinion she worked too hard and carried too much stress — but despaired of ever being able to do anything about it. Now …

Now, we’re together.

The Sunday after the Twin Towers came down, I was at Mass. The priest spoke of maintaining our balance in times that excited strong emotions, of remembering our humanity and that of our enemies. Careful, tolerant, inoffensive, all of it. He was the only person there worried about giving offense. The organist and choir director ignored the listings in the bulletin and — outside the Eucharist itself — did nothing but patriotic songs: “Star-Spangled Banner”, “Battle Hymn of the Republic”, “America the Beautiful”, “My Country T’is of Thee”. Some of them weren’t even in the hymnal, but the entire congregation sang from memory until the walls shook. That was the mood of the country then, and though you may not hear much about it from the mainstream media, it remains the mood of the soldiers and Marines that continue to pursue this war.

That last paragraph may not seem to have anything to do with what came before, but it actually ties together. Ultimately it comes down to this: you never really know where events will take you. I had no real idea what would be the results of September 11th; the hijackers thought they did. Now the future is here, following the process they set in motion, and I have to think I like it a lot better than any of them would have.

 

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