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News & ArtsWednesday, May 6, 2009
Life / War Saying Goodbye to My Brother
Posted by Christopher Frizzelle on Wed, May 6, 2009 at 6:00 AM
There are about 136,000 American troops in Iraq right now, including, as of three days ago, my little brother Mike. He's been training on an Army base in El Paso, Texas, for months, bored out of his mind, bored with movies, bored with the books he had, bored with the crummy little town, bored with the boring brown hills in Mexico he could see in the boring distance. A couple weeks ago my mom was asking him how he thinks he's going to like being in Iraq and he said, "It beats El Paso, Texas."
He called me last Saturday afternoon to say that he'd be leaving in the morning. It was one of those phone calls you know is coming but then surprises you when it comes, and I had no idea what to say, what older-brotherly advice to give, could barely think what to ask. I felt so blank and full of love and terrified and inarticulate—out of all my brothers, Mike is the one I aspire to be more like—that I only thought to ask the basics. Was he nervous? "I feel fine," he said, in his typically quiet, strong way. "I was nervous two days ago but now I'm fine." Where in Iraq was he being sent? A fairly remote area of southern Iraq. "We're going to be training Iraqis. The Iraqi brigade or something," he said. What was he doing right now? "Sitting in an empty apartment with a computer and a pillow." What was he going to do on his last night in the states? "Steak dinner. Just take it easy," he said.
Then he heard his older brother try to explain how proud he was of him and how brave he was, and talk about how meaningful it was to go off and be part of history, and he said he was going to try to keep a journal, and before I knew it we were done talking and I was wandering around the apartment trying not to cry. He and I have always said a lot to each other without many words, and I was so lost in my inarticulate vortex—weird, blank, free-falling feeling in the chest—that I hadn't been able to figure out an excuse to keep him on the phone longer.
"I think Mike's chances of coming back in one piece are pretty good," my dad said when I called him that night. Dad was in the Air Force in the '70s. "He signed up for it. And he'll be able to talk about what happens over there for the rest of his life."
Then I called my great aunt Betty. "I hope he doesn't get killed, but mostly I hope he doesn't get hurt," she said. Aunt Betty was an Army nurse for 21 years, beginning in 1952, and now lives in a retirement community in Davis, California. "I think he'll be in jeopardy, of course, but it'll be a random sort of thing, Iraqis blowing up Iraqis—getting in the middle of that. That would be the danger. But probably not as much danger as being a policeman in Oakland or driving on the freeways." I asked her what she meant about getting hurt being worse then being killed, and she started talking about the things she'd seen as a nurse in Korea—how much worse it is to lose a limb or come home with a brain injury than not to come home at all.
When I called my youngest brother Steven, who dropped out of school and is actively doing nothing, except going to movies and eating out a lot at Outback Steakhouse, he said, "I told him, 'Don't be a hero. If you hear a gun, don't think of your guys—run!' That's what I would do." I told him what Aunt Betty said about getting injured being worse than not making it back, about missing limbs and injured brains, and Steven said, "More things to worry about! Thanks! I didn't even think about that. Jesus." And then we talked about how mom is doing, since she is the sweetest, hardest-working, most worried mom in the world (she has three jobs, works seven days a week). Steven said, "I told Mom, 'He's nervous, but he's keeping it together. Try not to freak him out and start crying and telling him how Jesus loves him.'"
Finally got ahold of Mom on Monday. She'd asked him all the questions I never thought to ask, like whether they'd been trained to deal with watching people die (yes), how many hours it takes to get from Texas to Iraq (17 or 18), how they get over there (not in a cargo plane, but in a commercial airliner the Army leases), and where he will spend his first week acclimating to the new environment (Kuwait). She'd seen Mike recently; he came home for a few days. "I offered to hide him in the closet but he wouldn't let me," she said. He'd told her how lucky he was to be going to southern Iraq—on a mission that doesn't sound very combat-heavy—and not central/northern Iraq (where troops are still battling it out in dangerous cities) or Afghanistan (where the coming dangers are impossible to imagine). She mentioned she'd gotten something in the mail recently about a VA hospital. "It was all about this hospital and all the things they do, particularly partial brain injuries. I was like, 'OK, this is making me sick.' I can't read that stuff." I asked her how she was doing and told her I love her. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said. "I'm a little scared."
For the past two days I've been checking Mike's Facebook page a lot, waiting for a new status, knowing it's going to be a while. (The photos at the top of this post are from his Facebook page—that's our cousin Alicia with him on the left.) I'm hoping he stays in southern Iraq his whole yearlong tour, and that it's really boring for him. Really, really, really boring. Worse than El Paso.
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http://www.optactical.com/100rosawdrr.ht…
If you really want to go nuts and his SAW has a picatinny rail on the feed tray cover (be sure to ask if it does, not all of them do), you can buy him an Eotech sight. Make sure it's one of the AA-battery versions; he'll be the envy of his entire platoon!
Your family and mine are caught up in this modern war horror - and the solution is to oppose war as a solution. To that day of universal peace, let's aspire.
And, above, great survival tips. Nice.
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care packages go a long ways. and not just the standard stuff - go to archee mcfee's and send him some stuff that will make his buddies jealous of how cool his brother is way out there in seattle.
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What an awful mess.
Needless to say, I wish the gentleman the best.
But then I may be mocked for my silly supersticious beliefs.
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And my thoughts are with you as well Christopher. I know it is very hard to see someone going over there, and just wait to hear anything at all.
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http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cg…
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I work at COFFEE STRONG, a GI coffeehouse outside of Ft. Lewis. We are a cafe/resource center for active duty, veterans and military family. We're seeing a lot of troops gearing up for deployment, and everyone of them has got a story like this one. Thank you for sharing yours. I'm sure you can imagine how hard deployment cycles can be on soldiers with children.
Tell your brother good luck and contact the GI Rights Hotline if he gets screwed by Uncle Sam.
Peace
We're protesting stop loss at Freedom Bridge (exit 122 overpass on I-5) this Saturday at noon. Stop by COFFEE STRONG, bring PRO TROOP, ANTI STOP LOSS signs. No spitting allowed.
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If the Stranger is doing a little more emphasis on first person stuff (such as the Notes from the Unemployment Line series), then I think this would be a nice addition -- especially since the war isn't over. We still have people fighting over there, people who have mixed emotions about being there at all. I want to hear from them.
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