I Want to Cheer You Up
I was forward deployed in Iraq, but my war was with broken down tanks. I was a mechanic for combat engineer equipment. I used any excuse I could to get out of the base. I volunteered for mounted (in vehicle) and dismounted (on foot) patrols. The engineers had desert camouflage uniforms and I had olive drab coveralls. Let's just say I stood out.
We were instructed to stay alert and avoid too much interaction with the locals, as we didn't know who was friendly. Many would ask for food or water. We weren't allowed to give them anything. It stung a little to have so much and not be able to give. And before your heart starts bleeding, not everyone in Iraq agreed. There were many soldiers who felt nothing at all and on occasion, you'd find the real asshole that took pleasure in being less-than-considerate to the Iraqi people.
Those kids though.
They weren't at war with us. Coached to hate or not, they didn't. I saw it in their eyes. Even the older boys, who glared, as they were taught, you could still see that they didn't hate us. They'd follow and watch closely.
I couldn't conform. I needed to reach out to those kids. So I had boxes and boxes of candy sent from the rear. Anyone who asked what I needed, I'd say Oreos for me and lots and lots of candy. I did pass it out and share with other American soldiers, but the primary reason was so I could pack my gas mask case full of candy and anytime I left the base, and encountered those kids, I'd give it out. The first couple times, the wisest of them would make me eat the piece that I gave them and ask for a different piece.
Eventually, they came to expect it when they saw the olive drab fella on the patrols. I adored them.
Kids are precious, no matter the circumstances.
We were instructed to stay alert and avoid too much interaction with the locals, as we didn't know who was friendly. Many would ask for food or water. We weren't allowed to give them anything. It stung a little to have so much and not be able to give. And before your heart starts bleeding, not everyone in Iraq agreed. There were many soldiers who felt nothing at all and on occasion, you'd find the real asshole that took pleasure in being less-than-considerate to the Iraqi people.
Those kids though.
They weren't at war with us. Coached to hate or not, they didn't. I saw it in their eyes. Even the older boys, who glared, as they were taught, you could still see that they didn't hate us. They'd follow and watch closely.
I couldn't conform. I needed to reach out to those kids. So I had boxes and boxes of candy sent from the rear. Anyone who asked what I needed, I'd say Oreos for me and lots and lots of candy. I did pass it out and share with other American soldiers, but the primary reason was so I could pack my gas mask case full of candy and anytime I left the base, and encountered those kids, I'd give it out. The first couple times, the wisest of them would make me eat the piece that I gave them and ask for a different piece.
Eventually, they came to expect it when they saw the olive drab fella on the patrols. I adored them.
Kids are precious, no matter the circumstances.
