Two weeks ago I knew exactly what to say, and of course, I didn’t, and now I’m at a loss. Things have been busy. I survived vacation. Things happened, certainly, but some things aren’t helped by discussion. And then I drove back east, back to the base. And I have to say, it felt like going home. Not because of the cold steel bunk bed, the big fluorescent light, or the stink of sweat, boot polish, and weapon oil, but because everyone I really know anymore was there. And everyone is still lonely, but it’s comforting, to be back with the guys who you’ve been living and working with, some of them, for years.
So we all sat around and joked and poked fun at each other’s new clothes, or haircuts, or purchases over leave. Then we talked about what we did on vacation. And then we talked about girls, because, for real, at this point that is what everyone bases their vacation around. And, like every time we go on leave, the end result is a mix of tragedy and success. There are the guys who rekindled things with an ex, and those who gained a new one. Some plans worked out, some failed. Some guys were the beneficiaries of chance, a bit of fun, here and there. And some of us ended up somewhere in the middle, and were left with a big question, about what we wanted, and where we were going to go, and what we were prepared to give up, or gain, in our lives.
And then I went back to work, and day one, I had a decision to make. Because for once, things were in my hands, and of course, they only let you make the really tough calls. So I thought about it, and I made a decision, and by Wednesday night I had my orders and hit the road. And 3500km, and a lot of gas, and one accident, and a lot of bad music, and some sleazy motels, I made it out West. And that night my decision got tested, and it didn’t go well, but it wasn’t decisive either.
And yes, it feels good to be doing an actual job in the Army, finally. It feels strange, actually, to be treated with a degree of respect, and to be given a task and not to be told how to do it, or even be checked up on. And that’s not to say that indicates trust, or an assumption of confidence, it’s just how things go in the military – there is always more work than personnel, and superiors just have to trust that their troops will get the work done. And I’m getting it done, even though its 2 rank grades and about 5 years of experience over my head, and for real, I’m not getting any support working around that problem. But working at least gives me something to do, and I will turn out a good product at the end, if only because it’s the only thing that I have to keep me from realizing where I’ve ended up.
I’m farther than I’ve ever been from home, from my family, my friends. And I’m used to that, of course, but now I’m out here without the guys, my peers, the people who I don’t even have anything to say to anymore but whose company I relied on for many months of hell.
And here’s the kicker.
It’s my own fault.
Because there were really 3 choices, originally, and at any of them I was guaranteed to be with a group of my friends. But I was chasing something, something that felt right, at the time. And it was, really, but then I flinched, and doubted everything, if only for one short week. So when they offered me that choice, at the last second, was I sure I wanted to come out here on my own, or did I want to go to one of the other options, with my friends. And I thought about it, and decided, no, it’s worth it, it’s worth giving up the comfort and security of the guys, and I took the risk.
And about, maybe 2 days into getting out here, I started to realize I had made a big mistake.
And it wasn’t coming out here. Because for my career, this could really be a good go. The attitude and the atmosphere work for me, sure, I miss the city, of course, but that’s always the big sacrifice of the job. The mistake, the mistake was flinching, even if I thought it was inconsequential, even if I thought I could make up for it.
Well, maybe I can’t.
So I’m sitting out here, in the middle of nowhere really, alone, all long weekend long, just thinking about how it’s an extra day until I can go to work again, until I can have something to do, something to make time move forward that much faster. And there are prairie sunsets and strong winds and lots of roads to run, but it’s not enough. And the standard of living isn’t even bad, there are even couches and TV and cable, but it’s not enough. I have enough books to keep me occupied until a year from now, let alone Christmas, but even they can’t stop me from anxiously walking circles around my quarters. Even by army standards, this is lonely.
The take home point here, it’s really more of a punch line, if anything. It’s the cycle, the cycle of everything, hope, anxiousness, doubt, failure. Repeat. Because, for sure, the shortest distance between happiness and possibility, and smiling to yourself like an idiot, thinking about something, really, really fantastic that is finally within your grasp, is the flinch – that brief moment where you question, where you look that gift horse in the mouth, and, crash, you’ve got nothing. There is always a punishment, a price to pay for your lack of faith. And I’m not saying I’m in for an eternity of hellfire, or doom, or divine punishment, certainly not.
I’ve just got another 120 days in Shilo, Manitoba to pay.
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