Coming back

I never believed them.

They said it would be done before I realized it, that R&R would go like the blink of an eye. I told myself I'd take it slow and enjoy it.

They said coming back to Afghanistan a second time is much harder than the first time. I said I've already done it once, how bad can it be?

They said things would change in the platoon once I got back. I said I'll adjust, not THAT much can change, can it?

Well, here I am, a month later. Going home for two weeks seems like it was just a dream, a tease just long enough to show me what I'm missing. I had one of the greatest weeks of my life with my best friend, and though the second week was fairly stressful, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Then I came back. I don't really know why it hurts so much worse this time around, but leaving home for a second time was horrible. I can't even put the feeling into words. I miss everyone so much more than before. It didn't even hit me until I was on the plane, 30,000 feet in the air on the way to Germany, but when it did hit me, it hit hard. I'm glad the plane was fairly empty; it would have been difficult to explain to the other soldiers on board why I had tears running down my cheeks.

Several days later, I met up with a friend in the platoon. He let me know that several members of my platoon had been hit with a grenade rigged up to a booby-trap. My Platoon Sergeant was seriously wounded, and a friend of mine was hit, but not as severely. Both were medevaced out, and my Platoon Sergeant is now in the states, probably not coming back. He also told me we were moving down to a new FOB, where there will be limited communication, very little electricity, and no hot chow. That's quite a bit to adjust to.

But such is life in Afghanistan. All you can really do is go with the flow, carry out the mission, and do your best to come back safe and sane. And that's what I plan to do.