Standing Guard

   Whether you’re having a good or a bad day (and you have both), it’s still amazing to be here. Some days you feel completely displaced from the things you know and love. But other days, you forget for a little while that you are so far from home. The human spirit and the mindset of a soldier are very good at adapting to new adventures and constant change.

  I went out and visited about 9 different “positions” on our base yesterday, where soldiers from my unit stand guard against those who want to harm us. Their attitudes were positive and refreshing.

  I’d walk in, and they’d see the Lieutenant bar and probably think, “Oh great. Some officer coming to give us a hard time,” or they’d get that look in their eyes as if trying to scan their memory banks for something they may have done wrong recently – there was the quickly flashed awkward look, the unspoken question.  

   I’d quickly shake their hands and say “Hey guys, I’m Lieutenant K, your Signal Officer. I just wanted to come out and see how you were doing and check on your commo (communications) equipment.” Then my Master Sergeant would walk up behind me. They all know him. He’s 59 years old, has been in the National Guard for 39 years, and is the type of down-to-earth person that immediately puts you at ease. He’s the kind of guy you’d want to have a barbecue with in someone’s shady backyard, sipping cold beer or lemonade and shooting the breeze - someone you want to go fishing with on a lazy summer afternoon. He has 11 children and 17 grandchildren, and he can keep up with soldiers a quarter of his age.

  The guys would relax once they understood they weren’t being ambushed, or inspected for deficiencies. Their demeanor let me know they appreciated us coming out to visit them, and that they took great pride in their work. They discussed the specifics of their particular mission, and the things they’ve seen and done so far. I’d ask questions, look at the set-up of their equipment, take my notes and make suggestions. These are the men standing in the heat (or soon, the cold) all day, remaining vigilant, so that the rest of us on the base can work with some measure of safety. We appreciate all that they do.

   At one site, there was a little brown and white dog the guys had named Jenny. She looked very comfortable laying in the middle or their bunker, as if she were on a throw rug in someone’s living room, stretching, doing that dog yawn thing, after a long day of chasing the neighbor’s cat.  The soldiers seemed to like her company. When they changed shifts, the first thing the new guys did was scratch her behind the ears. Then they would walk past (over) her to start checking weapons systems and getting ready for the task at hand. I love animals, and spending a few minutes with Jenny gave me the taste of home I’d needed for the last few days.

   I want you all to know that I see a lot of your sons and daughters every day. Not all of them, but a lot. Just yesterday I visited a few that I don’t see very often, and they are doing well, and they are working hard. You are right to be proud of them. I am.

   I’ve heard that occasionally they hire an Iraqi to go around the base and kill all the wild animals.

   Well, I’d like to see him try to get to Jenny the dog.  

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