Ultima Ratio Regum
'the last argument of kings'
this was inscribed on all of the cannons of louis XIV. the insurgents here are 'Ultima Ratio Regum' in one way, and i am 'Ultima Ratio Regum' in another way.
i wasn't going to publish this post, but i changed my mind. some things are too big to hold on to for long.
i got off of work at noon.
it was around 120 degrees, with no clouds in sight. i changed into my shorts as quickly as i could. i went to the gym, which is about a block away from my dorm. inside the gym, it was 90 degrees. i drank some water. i ran 4 miles. i did some sit-ups. i turned in my towel, and walked back to the dorm. the power went out. no air conditioning, no lights, no running water. my t-shirt was almost dry already. i took my book and went down the hall to the day room. i had to open the blinds to have enough light to read. i read a few pages.
in the distance, i heard an explosion. i thought it might be the explosive ordnance disposal guys setting off some old bombs. i looked down to my book. i heard another explosion. this explosion was close, maybe a quarter of a mile away. EOD explosions always go off in the same place. i closed my book- an attack meant i had to call in to my shop so they knew i was ok. what a pain in the neck. i reached the door of the day room. the floor rose under my feet- this explosion was close, way too close. i was running down the hall to my room in the dark. the alarm started wailing. people were shouting. i ran into my room. "get your gear on get your gear on get your gear on" i said. for half a second, i couldn't decide whether to put on my helmet or my vest first. i got my helmet out of my backpack, set it on my head. i ripped my vest out of my locker. the velcro wouldn't work. my hands wouldn't work. i couldn't breath. my room mate was frantic. i saw him put his vest on. the floor jumped under my feet. i couldn't hear over my heart beating. i got on the floor. i stood up. i sat on my bed. that sounded too close. they never come this close. the floor jumped again. the walls moved. i heard hard things hitting the roof. my knees were weak. i could hear myself breathing. i don't remember what people were saying. i sat on the floor. i was sweating. it was dim. the room smelled like sweat. my kidneys starting to hurt like i've never felt before. it felt like someone was taking a hammer to my back. i bent over, i straightened up, but it was persistent. i couldn't speak. in a few minutes it went away. i don't know if it was a muscle spasm or if it was all that adrenaline hitting my kidneys at once. i was worried that it was a kidney stone. that was not a good time for a kidney stone. it had been several minutes, and there had been no more explosions. i stood up unsteadily and went out into the hall to see if anyone was hurt. everyone else was in the hall, too. i stepped into the doorway and looked outside. everything looked normal. i talked with some people. i don't remember what we said. someone thought that the attack was over, and stepped outside our barricade into the road. "GET BACK INSIDE WE'RE STILL IN ALARM RED WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE" and we ran back to our rooms. we sat and waited. i was pretty much scared out of my mind. i thought i heard something on the giant voice outside, so i went to the front door. i heard another explosion, distant. "that's outgoing fire," someone said. another explosion, and another, getting closer. "i don't think our outgoing fire would get closer like that," i said. i went back to my room. a soldier came in and asked if there were any casualties. we were all ok. eventually we heard the alarm yellow- ok to go outside and look for unexploded bombs. behind my dorm was a group of soldiers looking at the ground. i could see chunks missing from the concrete barriers. they yelled at me to stay away. i went to the front of the dorm. a few dorms down, there was a crowd of people. i walked over. they were standing around a hole in the ground. the tail section of a large mortar was on the ground. the hole in the ground was 5 feet away from the barrier; it was 8 feet from the dorm itself. i took a few pictures. i walked back to my dorm. the soldiers were gone now; i walked to the hole, looking for pieces of the mortar. the hole in the ground was around 30 feet from my room. all up and down the cement barricades, chunks were missing. the crater was encircled by a tan bull's eye where the gravel was gone. i told the story of the attack over and over to people who were just arriving. i heard the stories about where the other mortars hit.
one landed in the community center by the gym, rec center, barber shop, and B/X. several injuries, one death. when it hit, aaron was getting his hair cut. he hit the floor as quickly as he could, in a pile of hair. kyle was leaning against a concrete barricade, talking to someone. when the round hit, he was pelted with gravel. he got down on the ground. chad and steve were outside the rec tent. when the round hit, steve looked back and chad was nowhere to be seen. it looks like we've got a new contender for the 100-meter dash.
at the third explosion, i could hear helicopters and f-16s taking off. when a mortar hits, it leaves a crater that can tell a trained eye a lot about where it came from. i have a lot of respect for the soldiers who were outside during the attack looking at the craters. they radio that info to their control center, and then it goes to our pilots. i don't know if we got the people who attacked us that day. they are getting too good at this for my comfort. with any luck, i'll be home in a few days. every explosion i hear sets my heart racing. i avoid open spaces. EOD sets off controlled detonations most days, without warning, a few hundred yards from my dorm. it's powerful enough to make my bed jump like a truck on a gravel road. a few days ago, the explosions didn't bother me- i had finally become accustomed to them. now i feel terror. there's no glory to be had in staying here a minute longer than i absolutely have to. all i want in the world is to be home again.
other than that, i'm fine. only a few more days to go before i'm on that plane home. i hope this isn't upsetting to anyone... although i can see how it might be. i just needed to tell someone. i can't expect anyone to understand how it feels to be here, but i intend to try. by the way, after the 25th or so, you'll need to write to my email at the 148th- benjamin.riordan@mndulu.ang.af.mil because qatar blocks my operamail website. at least, i think it does. better play it safe. i'll still get the email, just not until i get home. as always, i appreciate all the support you've shown during this difficult time. it does make a difference in my life. take care and keep in touch.
this was inscribed on all of the cannons of louis XIV. the insurgents here are 'Ultima Ratio Regum' in one way, and i am 'Ultima Ratio Regum' in another way.
i wasn't going to publish this post, but i changed my mind. some things are too big to hold on to for long.
i got off of work at noon.
it was around 120 degrees, with no clouds in sight. i changed into my shorts as quickly as i could. i went to the gym, which is about a block away from my dorm. inside the gym, it was 90 degrees. i drank some water. i ran 4 miles. i did some sit-ups. i turned in my towel, and walked back to the dorm. the power went out. no air conditioning, no lights, no running water. my t-shirt was almost dry already. i took my book and went down the hall to the day room. i had to open the blinds to have enough light to read. i read a few pages.
in the distance, i heard an explosion. i thought it might be the explosive ordnance disposal guys setting off some old bombs. i looked down to my book. i heard another explosion. this explosion was close, maybe a quarter of a mile away. EOD explosions always go off in the same place. i closed my book- an attack meant i had to call in to my shop so they knew i was ok. what a pain in the neck. i reached the door of the day room. the floor rose under my feet- this explosion was close, way too close. i was running down the hall to my room in the dark. the alarm started wailing. people were shouting. i ran into my room. "get your gear on get your gear on get your gear on" i said. for half a second, i couldn't decide whether to put on my helmet or my vest first. i got my helmet out of my backpack, set it on my head. i ripped my vest out of my locker. the velcro wouldn't work. my hands wouldn't work. i couldn't breath. my room mate was frantic. i saw him put his vest on. the floor jumped under my feet. i couldn't hear over my heart beating. i got on the floor. i stood up. i sat on my bed. that sounded too close. they never come this close. the floor jumped again. the walls moved. i heard hard things hitting the roof. my knees were weak. i could hear myself breathing. i don't remember what people were saying. i sat on the floor. i was sweating. it was dim. the room smelled like sweat. my kidneys starting to hurt like i've never felt before. it felt like someone was taking a hammer to my back. i bent over, i straightened up, but it was persistent. i couldn't speak. in a few minutes it went away. i don't know if it was a muscle spasm or if it was all that adrenaline hitting my kidneys at once. i was worried that it was a kidney stone. that was not a good time for a kidney stone. it had been several minutes, and there had been no more explosions. i stood up unsteadily and went out into the hall to see if anyone was hurt. everyone else was in the hall, too. i stepped into the doorway and looked outside. everything looked normal. i talked with some people. i don't remember what we said. someone thought that the attack was over, and stepped outside our barricade into the road. "GET BACK INSIDE WE'RE STILL IN ALARM RED WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE" and we ran back to our rooms. we sat and waited. i was pretty much scared out of my mind. i thought i heard something on the giant voice outside, so i went to the front door. i heard another explosion, distant. "that's outgoing fire," someone said. another explosion, and another, getting closer. "i don't think our outgoing fire would get closer like that," i said. i went back to my room. a soldier came in and asked if there were any casualties. we were all ok. eventually we heard the alarm yellow- ok to go outside and look for unexploded bombs. behind my dorm was a group of soldiers looking at the ground. i could see chunks missing from the concrete barriers. they yelled at me to stay away. i went to the front of the dorm. a few dorms down, there was a crowd of people. i walked over. they were standing around a hole in the ground. the tail section of a large mortar was on the ground. the hole in the ground was 5 feet away from the barrier; it was 8 feet from the dorm itself. i took a few pictures. i walked back to my dorm. the soldiers were gone now; i walked to the hole, looking for pieces of the mortar. the hole in the ground was around 30 feet from my room. all up and down the cement barricades, chunks were missing. the crater was encircled by a tan bull's eye where the gravel was gone. i told the story of the attack over and over to people who were just arriving. i heard the stories about where the other mortars hit.
one landed in the community center by the gym, rec center, barber shop, and B/X. several injuries, one death. when it hit, aaron was getting his hair cut. he hit the floor as quickly as he could, in a pile of hair. kyle was leaning against a concrete barricade, talking to someone. when the round hit, he was pelted with gravel. he got down on the ground. chad and steve were outside the rec tent. when the round hit, steve looked back and chad was nowhere to be seen. it looks like we've got a new contender for the 100-meter dash.
at the third explosion, i could hear helicopters and f-16s taking off. when a mortar hits, it leaves a crater that can tell a trained eye a lot about where it came from. i have a lot of respect for the soldiers who were outside during the attack looking at the craters. they radio that info to their control center, and then it goes to our pilots. i don't know if we got the people who attacked us that day. they are getting too good at this for my comfort. with any luck, i'll be home in a few days. every explosion i hear sets my heart racing. i avoid open spaces. EOD sets off controlled detonations most days, without warning, a few hundred yards from my dorm. it's powerful enough to make my bed jump like a truck on a gravel road. a few days ago, the explosions didn't bother me- i had finally become accustomed to them. now i feel terror. there's no glory to be had in staying here a minute longer than i absolutely have to. all i want in the world is to be home again.
other than that, i'm fine. only a few more days to go before i'm on that plane home. i hope this isn't upsetting to anyone... although i can see how it might be. i just needed to tell someone. i can't expect anyone to understand how it feels to be here, but i intend to try. by the way, after the 25th or so, you'll need to write to my email at the 148th- benjamin.riordan@mndulu.ang.af.mil because qatar blocks my operamail website. at least, i think it does. better play it safe. i'll still get the email, just not until i get home. as always, i appreciate all the support you've shown during this difficult time. it does make a difference in my life. take care and keep in touch.
posted by Ben at 3:09 PM
2 Comments:
Ben..I can't tell you how happy we all will be to know that you are safe and on your way home. It sounds like and unbelievable nightmare. Thanks you for sharing your thoughts and experiences with us. It means a lot to us. Grandma Joyce
Oh Ben,
You assume right--it is very hard to read this. Though I would rather read this from you than hear it any other way. I trust your "truth" and rely on your perception of the world "over there"...
I believe I wrote earlier in your blog that no mother should have to read how endangered her "child" is. I, too, will be thankful and relieved when you are safely back home...funny, how we perceive safety differently, based on what our frames of reference are of danger.
You, dear one, have learned a whole different level of danger than we--who have never been in anything close to a military combat--have or ever will experience. Again, I worry how long it will take you not to shudder at the sound of a car backfiring, or how long before you feel comfortable being in the midst of a crowd. Perhaps never?
When you were born I distinctly remember counting your fingers and toes. Taking a mother's inventory of her child's "parts"...I will feel the same way when I see you again--wanting to count your fingers and toes--and think of other mothers who have less legs or arms to count...maybe one less plate at the table Christmas eve, one less birthday to put on the calendar... you get my drift. I am thankful for you and will breath a mighty and heartfelt sigh of relief at no longer having to worry about you so far away from us.
A woman named Heather called the other night. She's from the military family organization and must be a volunteer who calls and updates families about what's happening to the troops. She's called twice. Sent me pictures--of a yellow/beige desolate place...This time I dutifully wrote down all the information she provided; how to contact her, where to go for different gatherings...I felt the same way I did the first time I went to my oncologist. "What am I doing here?!" It was as if someone had dropped me into the wrong waiting room. I felt the same way writing down information about deployments, and troops, base security and operation homecoming..."What is she talking about this with me for!?" My old, reliable (by now familiar) denial of the gravity of this circumstance...just absolutely defies my intelligence...I simply can't wrap my brain around where you are and the potential danger.
Thank you for taking care of yourself. I am oddly comforted to read about your fear and terror. It is that abiding belief and faith I have in you that you, above many others, are able to keep yourself safe. So far, so good.
By the way, when I'm extremely frightened, anxious or angry (probably an adrenaline thing?) my back spasms in exactly the place you describe--to the point I am immobile until it passes--sometimes seconds, sometimes minutes.
Keep in touch as best you can. I love you.
Mom
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