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Fire In The Night
We burn a lot of things out here.
There is a huge pit where we burn a lot of our trash. There is no city dump to drop things off, where trash is divided into papers, plastics, and metals to help with the ever-imminent energy crisis always lurking behind the door.
There is also no Environmental Protection Agency.
Just tonight I walked outside and the air was thick with acrid smoke. It smelled like burning plastic or rubber or something else one wouldn’t normally burn back home.
We burn anything that may be considered classified. It could be the address label off of a box that our family sent us, or an official military document. If the enemy can use it to his advantage, just burn it. Leave nothing to chance.
There are burn barrels and little pits dug into the ground all over. Sometimes at night you pass by an area and see mysterious darkened figures around a barrel alight with orange flame like hobos in a
Add this to the Muslim prayers coming over loudspeakers from way too close, and you have the makings of a scene from the Twilight Zone. The man who is usually praying sounds passionate, and fully enthralled in the words. It reminds me of a Native American prayer, as the vibrato voice rises and falls with a rhythm that is strange and unsettling.
I think alfred Hitchcock would have loved this place at night.
Without streetlamps, the darkness is complete here. And now that its daylight savings time, you can find yourself on the walk back from the chow hall after dinner in a strange land of shadow and danger, your perception limited to the power of your flashlight. Fire breaks up the darkness.
As the weeks roll by, I fill up a box with paper I need to burn. I like to go out at night under the stars when I think it’s safe and feed my paper into the fire, piece by piece. My eyes dance with the flames as my thoughts are reflected in them.
I stand close because the heat doesn’t bother me much. I have become accustomed to heat. Never again will I stand in
We live our days in a place of harsh realities, of danger, of intense heat, of learning the hard way, of brotherhood, of war, of sacrifice, of bold action, of bitter tears, of love, of hate, of regeneration, and of history.
But every once in a while, in the silence of the night, we simply stand around a fire and feed paper into the flames, each one of us lost in our own quiet thoughts.
As September came to a close, I ripped it off my calendar and walked out to the barrel.
I felt symbolic as I sacrificed September to the fire - but it's only paper.
Some of us have sacrificed much, much more.
I enjoyed your comments. Your comparisons were quite vivid. You are a very
good writer.
I was surprised to see such great writing coming from an Army guy ;)
I'll return to read more.
Good writing, son. Very vivid. Stay focused on your mission and be
careful out there. We are pulling for all of you guys.
I feel at a loss for words. I just lack the vocabulary and the ability of
expressing what i feel right now.
I ll try to explain.
I was given the adress of your blog by a friend last sunday. I began to
read it at the bottom and found it heartbreaking. I couldn t go on.
On Monday i spent some six hours reading the twelve magnificent pieces of
your archives.
I decided to try and not devour your writing all at a time, but to save
some for every day. As a kid who keeps half of the candy bar in his pocket
and is so happy with the thought that there s some left and with the
anticipation of the moment he ll eat it.
Tonight i read all of your other blog. Then i wanted to tell you how much i
appreciated it even if i only read it superficially because there s so much
in it !
Then i switched off the PC. But i couldn t resist. I got up again and here
i am, in my pyjamas ! again too greedy to resist the temptation of reading
just a little bit more ! Tomorrow i ll look crap with the lack of sleep,
but i don t mind, your writing is so much worth it !
Again here you nailed me. It s the way you write here, as if from far away,
as if somewhat detached and observing yourself from above. It s as if being
in this strange weird different zone had deshumanized you. As if you had
abandoned a part of yourself and were acting automatically. How can you
manage to give such an effect ? I ll have to study this word by word,
metaphor by metaphor, with the academic methods that i might find far back
in my memories from school !
Again the last sentence. Isn t it that we used to call the building of the
text towards the climax and then the anticlimax the reader is left with ?
I can t remember and i regret it, because i m at a loss for words to
express what i feel, and i wish i could tell you. This is wonderful. Why
didn t you put it in your archives ? It s one of your best ones. At the
same time it s sad and distressing, at the same time it makes me ill at
ease. Which proves you reached your purpose of unsettling me your greedy
reader as you were at the time 6 months ago unsettled in this strange
different environment so very far from your own culture.
Thank you again.
And again, take care.
Love from francoise
My wife saw today's Sunday Doonesbury comics mentioned they were hosting
soldier's blogs, so I found your Fire post. Yours was on the top of the
page, and I was amazed how great it was, coming from a guy whose job
requires focus on much more serious things than writing about burn barrels.
I send you Bright and Warm Blessings. Thank you for sharing your writings
and granting me a most Divine Gift. The gift of seeing through your eyes,
which see beyond what others, may see. You have the ability to draw the
reader into your writing, to relive it along side of you. I found you
through the Sandbox, which I found through a web search. My Baby Sister
and her husband are in Iraq and have been extended until next month. I
search the web, the news and the blogs for noteworthy postings that may
give me some insight into her surroundings and missions. I support her
and all of our troops with all that I can, be it letters, packages or words
of encouragement.
It is with my sincerest gratitude that I wish you well in all aspects of
your life.
Sassy Arnold
Very touched by your writing. Keep it coming!