There were a number of people who asked for army stories, and this isn't really one, but it's what your'e getting anyway.
In 1999, I spent Christmas in a field hospital in Kosovo. I was 28, and it was the furthest I'd even been from home. I'd requested the transfer there, got approval in June, and I was over there by October.
It was... Well, it was bad, obviously. It was worse than I'd thought it would be, worse than I could have imagined it being, because knowing what will happen and seeing it happen around you are completely different things.
But it was also what I'd wanted, in a lot of ways. We were understaffed, and I had no time to think about anything but the work in front of me, and it was necessary work - more cleaning out bullet wounds, less twenty prostate exams in a row followed by ingrown toenails. Mainly, I was happy, or too tired to feel much at all, which was just as good.
And then Christmas day came, and everything was dead quiet for once. I was sent off to get some more sleep, which I did not do. It was snowing like mad, and I went outside, and I remember standing there for... I don't know how long. A long time. At least an hour. The snow was up over my shoes by the time I moved.
It was so cold, and white, and quiet, after those first few months in the field hospital.
That's all. No story really. Just one of those moments I'll always remember.
In 1999, I spent Christmas in a field hospital in Kosovo. I was 28, and it was the furthest I'd even been from home. I'd requested the transfer there, got approval in June, and I was over there by October.
It was... Well, it was bad, obviously. It was worse than I'd thought it would be, worse than I could have imagined it being, because knowing what will happen and seeing it happen around you are completely different things.
But it was also what I'd wanted, in a lot of ways. We were understaffed, and I had no time to think about anything but the work in front of me, and it was necessary work - more cleaning out bullet wounds, less twenty prostate exams in a row followed by ingrown toenails. Mainly, I was happy, or too tired to feel much at all, which was just as good.
And then Christmas day came, and everything was dead quiet for once. I was sent off to get some more sleep, which I did not do. It was snowing like mad, and I went outside, and I remember standing there for... I don't know how long. A long time. At least an hour. The snow was up over my shoes by the time I moved.
It was so cold, and white, and quiet, after those first few months in the field hospital.
That's all. No story really. Just one of those moments I'll always remember.
10 comments:
That's a lovely, haunting image. Thank you for sharing it.
A moment of silence in the struggle. I'm with RR - quite the haunting image. Thank you, and I hope you have a restful night.
This post makes me want to curl up with a volume of Wilfred Owen.
And to answer some stuff from your last post: no turkey for my Thanksgiving dinner as I am a vegetarian, as is my mom. My brother eats everything.
(Also, John, I notice you are taking no responsibility for idiotic reactions to DANGER! signs. Wise move.)
I want to play the song "Mardy Bum" for Lestrade now. L, if you get a chance, search for it - it's by the Arctic Monkeys.
Sherlock, I'm sorry you're unwell. When I'm sick and tired and achy, I drink jeera rasam (either on its own, in a mug) or in a bowl poured over rice. It's an Indian recipe that's basically pepper and some spices and tamarind paste in boiling water - kind of like PepperUp Potion from the Harry Potter books. It's very effective. Maybe there's an Indian place that has it on the menu that delivers?
I'd draw you a picture to cheer you up, but all any drawing of mine would inspire would be a hearty eyeroll at the obvious lack of talent. Still, I hope you're getting plenty of cuddles.
Wait! I have a giggle or all and sundry -
http://www.flickr.com/photos/themusecalliope/6366892649/in/photostream
(Flying Tossers?)
Isn't it amazing how those moments of calm creep up on you. All the more poignant for the chaos that surrounds them. I'm glad you found peace for that little bit, Doc.
I lived on one of the bases in Canada where the Kosovo refugees were brought into the country. I was just in school then, still, so we played with a lot of the kids. At the time, I wasn't thinking about where and what they were coming from. I can see how a moment of perfect quiet would be welcome in that situation.
I'm also having a day of brain not working. A week of it, in fact. Sorry I've been lurky. :)
Awww, X. Welcome back at least. :)
I'm glad you had some moments of calm and peace. I can't imagine the things you've seen, honestly, but I'm glad you share little pieces of it.
I'm glad you had that moment of peace. It sounds like one of those moments you'll never forget.
Innie - I have no comment on your DANGER signs, except to hope that L won't order one for the door of the flat.
Calliope - the Flying Tossers sounds like a very...interesting...acrobatic troop.
X - I wasn't thinking about where and what they were coming from.
And I wasn't thinking about where they were going. I'm glad it was somewhere good.
DW and Pip - thanks. It was nice. Strange (and cold), but nice. (And doubly nice because it wasn't the inside of the building we were in by then, which was an abandoned mental hospital.)
L - it means a lot to me that you're willing to hear about it. Thank you.
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