Deployment Journal: As deployment came to a close, my heart remained heavy

  • Published
  • By Tech. Sgt. Kevin Wallace
  • RC-West Media Combat Team
HERAT, Afghanistan --  I felt like someone drove a dull, rusty ice pick into my heart when a text message arrived informing me friends of mine were wounded in a combat engagement in Bala Murghab, and some were being medically evacuated to my camp.

Petty Officer 1st Class John Pearl and I were walking to a Spanish friend's tent to wish him a happy birthday that last week of our deployment when the news of five of our brothers arrived.

On the spot we both committed to doing whatever we could to help if a single one our friend passed.

Even if it meant draining every last cent from our bank accounts, we would help ease the suffering of our friend's family.

Later that night I learned that two service members were flown in from Bala Murghab, not five. It was one U.S. and one Afghan.

Still, I strived to understand why my friends, people I love dearly, kept suffering while so many others in this world were living normal lives.

Finally, drenched in my own sweat and soaked with anger, I passed out.

At some point that night, I dreamt of my own firefights and awoke to the memory of a rocket propelled grenade blasting me into a wall.

Yelling, I realized the only reason I was tormented by dreams was because my buddy was on the other side of base fighting for his life.

Not long before I lay in a hospital bed because of that RPG. I was lucky, my wounds were minor.

"How selfish am I for cursing my dreams," I thought to myself. I'm really lucky to be here.

I then clenched my pillow and went back to sleep.

I woke up the next day with my heart still heavy and while I longed to return to England, wished I could remain with my scout brothers until they returned Fort Carson, Colo.

I was a Joint Expeditionary Tasked Airman and, as such, didn't deploy with a unit.

I was alone there and, when I arrived, I was attached to an Italian combat camera unit. My only official relation to the scouts of the 7th Squadron, 10th Cavalry Regiment was that I covered their operations in the capacity of my duties.

However, my relationship was much more complicated than that. They consider me one of them, and I called them my brothers.

There are many of them I've kept in contact with, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

As I prepared to re-deploy, I kept thinking, "Why do my brothers keep teetering near Death's door?"

I suppose, like me, they were doing their duty. They were sacrificing themselves for the freedom of us all.

I kept struggling for a clear explanation of what that meant.

I recently returned to England and now that's all behind me. I've reunited with my family and that's absolute ecstasy.

Still, somewhere in my heart I've kept a pocket of sadness.

That bubble of grief would remain until each and every one of my brothers returned to Colorado.

Last week, one of our medics, Spc. Stephen Marsh, re-deployed. He was my last brother to go home, and now I can finally resume a state of normalcy.

I've seen that phenomenon on many movies and, to be honest, I've always considered it trite.

But, I guess now I know what it feels like to be part of something much larger than myself and my family.

I'm proud to call you my brothers.