If deploying had a face, it would wear an expression of sheer boredom. At first blush, deploying to Afghanistan may sound exciting, but soon reality glares and deploying is little more than standing in lines, waiting:
Waiting in a long line of trucks. A spectacle of military might, yes. But worst than an Atlanta traffic jam, measuring distance moved in feet, time passing in hours, slowly loading up all our equipment onto the train that will take it to the port.
Waiting at legal to complete a will. With it’s implications of mortality, it should be sobering. But any thoughts of death are erased by boredom. Will they please just call my name so I can finish the will I never believe I need?
Waiting in line to talk to a mental health professional. No, I don’t have thought of hurting myself or anyone else. No anger issues. No problems sleeping. No I don’t want to talk to some one further. The rapidity with which the questions are fired would probably prevent the identification of those who truly need help.
Waiting, the line stretches across the old basketball court. Sergeants buzz around the queue like anxious bees, insuring their Soldiers are completing all necessary tasks. Like cattle we are herded through, quickly stabbed in each arm. Anthrax, small pox, H1N1, typhoid. You won’t be able to raise your arms tomorrow
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