Editor’s note: This article as well as “SITREP: Veteran perspectives on combat and peace,” “Another suicide story,” and “Seeing the elephant” are laid out to model a SITREP reading. The reading begins with an introduction to the program and publication by Jacqueline Wilson or another faculty advisor. Then, veterans read their creative essays, stories or poetry. The program concludes with a question-and-answer time with the veterans. All pieces are published with permission of the authors. — Teri McDowell Ott
Monday, 8 November 2010
I can’t believe I’m still alive. Today was the worst firefight yet. We pushed south — far south. We tried to get to the village of Qal-i-Quamandan or some shit like that. We stayed as far east as we could on infiltration. Things aren’t as bad over there, and there’s good cover from all the “qalat” castles. We took a rocket-propelled grenade and some small arms fire about 1 kilometer from our objective. It wasn’t much, so we pushed on. About 150 meters later we saw a group of men sitting by their house, so we called them over. They said they heard the gunfire and stopped working in the field. The old man seemed genuine, and he was friendly. All he wants is security, he said. Wouldn’t that be nice? All the Taliban needs to do is stop firing at us. Then we won’t kill anyone. Americans will think we’ve won. We’ll leave; then they can take over again.
This war is unwinnable.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
After four and a half years of on-and-off depression, I finally did it. The physician assistant gave me some antidepressants. My mood has been too volatile lately. Hopefully these pills work. Honestly, I don’t really mind. When I’m in a good mood, things go well.
I haven’t talked to my family in a while — the last time was Xmas Eve, I suppose. I’ve gotten numerous emails from them. I can’t bring myself to respond or call them. Not sure why. I guess I don’t have much to tell them, and I don’t want to start getting homesick, and I don’t like hearing them cry. I need to write them a short email saying I’ve been busy, but I’m okay. At least that way they know I’m alive.
Sunday, 9 January 2011
Our mission on Jan. 7 was to ride up to Bandoka to make our presence known and possibly rattle the bushes a bit. The gas station there is a known Taliban hangout.
I remember hearing a faint boom (they aren’t that loud inside the truck), immediately followed by a massive black funnel of smoke. By the time I got to the lead vehicle – no more than one minute after the explosion – it was burning as if someone took a flamethrower to a pile of wood pallets soaked in gasoline.
I ran up to the truck and made a feeble attempt to open the driver’s side door with my weapon. It was so hot. The door was blown in and could not be opened. Lapierre was knocked out by the initial shock, or he couldn’t get out of his seat belt fast enough. The people in the back had no chance. The .50-caliber rounds started going off. I didn’t care. I ran to try the fire extinguisher, but Payne had already used it up. One ANA soldier was in a fit of madness. He loaded his RPG and fired a round at random into the nearby village. Their squad leader was screaming for us to open the back ramp. It’s hard to look on knowing your comrades’ bodies are ablaze inside a vehicle. The .50-cal rounds were going off like firecrackers. We never really had a chance to help them. Any fool could tell everyone inside was dead within minutes.
The platoon is doing as well as can be expected. If I wasn’t on antidepressants, I don’t know how I’d be doing. I feel guilty for not being able to feel as bad about this as I should. I couldn’t cry right now if I wanted to. I don’t know how long the men are going to last. Their souls can only lose so much before they’re either gone or broken.
Thursday, 13 January 2011
This is about as legit of a deployment as it gets. I have now seen the horrors of war, dealt with the stress that goes along with it, and I am continuing to face my leadership challenges. My chances of making it out of here alive are diminishing by the day it seems. As many times as I’ve hoped to get hit to get the hell out of here, or straight up wanted to quit, I’m still glad I’m here, doing what I’m doing. When you get down to the meat of things, this is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a rare one for most people in the military, let alone the population in general. If I make it home, I will be a changed man.
Eric Hanson graduated from West Point Military Academy in 2009 and was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Army. In October of 2010, he deployed to Afghanistan, where he led an infantry line platoon in combat operations for the following year. Upon return, he served as a company executive officer and battalion staff officer before leaving the Army in 2014. Eric is now a farmer in Warren County, Illinois, and the proud father of a 3-month-old daughter.