Post by duckbutt on Aug 24, 2018 4:47:49 GMT -8
Jocko, my name is Guillermo and I am grateful to have found you and your work. I am a 6 year active duty veteran of the US Army, serving in the 1st Armored Division under Col McFarland and 1st Infantry Division. I was an unmanned aircraft operator and my platoon was detached to support the 28th Infantry Division (PA Nat'l Guard) and 2MARDIV in Ramadi from Sep05 to Sep06. Listening to you speak about what we accomplished and sacrificed there has been a transformative experience for me. For many years, I held those memories close, convinced my thoughts, frustration and nightmares were isolated. I believed myself to have been irrevocably damaged from the things I saw there, ducking IDF and stray potshots taken at us on FOB Ramadi, and the seeming indifference of my fellow citizens back home. I self-isolated and was self-destructive. Hearing a leader like you speak about these things, offering your balanced perspective, has changed everything for me.
The common meme about "drone guys" is that we sit in an office somewhere far, far from danger playing some silly video game that detaches us from the violence of war. My reality and the reality of my brothers and sisters who have served in this capacity is quite different. I owned the bird's-eye-view of the cities of Ramadi and outlying Anbar, the Korengal & Pech River valley, and the Torkham Gate during some of the heaviest fighting US forces were engaged in during OIF/OEF. I watched my friends Jimmy Pirtle and Ryan King die when OP Bari Alai was overrun; bore silent witness when their bodies were carried out of the still smoking bunker, betrayed by ANA who were supposed to be their allies. I watched, powerless to help... knowing the best thing I could do for them was to give my leaders as much information about the situation as I could, as much detail of the IED blasts, ambushes and TICs as I could parse out. All the time wracked with guilt. Guilt that I didn't volunteer for a harder MOS, more dangerous details alongside "real" soldiers. Guilt that the price being paid by the brave warriors I supported was so much higher than my own. I don't pretend that our service requires the same sacrifice as so many others, but it does require sacrifice. And I've had a very hard time articulating that to my brothers who I served with, when they couldn't take it anymore, when they had enough of rubbernecking when heroes were fighting, bleeding, dying. When they felt broken themselves. When I did.
Anyway, this post has gone on too long and probably sounds like a plea for pity. It isn't. Your words about the soldiers, Marines, everyone who served there have been heard and are appreciated. No, we all didn't serve the same way, but we all served and I'm proud to have stood with them all when the call came. Thank you and I look forward to the next podcast and the next book.
With respect, G.
The common meme about "drone guys" is that we sit in an office somewhere far, far from danger playing some silly video game that detaches us from the violence of war. My reality and the reality of my brothers and sisters who have served in this capacity is quite different. I owned the bird's-eye-view of the cities of Ramadi and outlying Anbar, the Korengal & Pech River valley, and the Torkham Gate during some of the heaviest fighting US forces were engaged in during OIF/OEF. I watched my friends Jimmy Pirtle and Ryan King die when OP Bari Alai was overrun; bore silent witness when their bodies were carried out of the still smoking bunker, betrayed by ANA who were supposed to be their allies. I watched, powerless to help... knowing the best thing I could do for them was to give my leaders as much information about the situation as I could, as much detail of the IED blasts, ambushes and TICs as I could parse out. All the time wracked with guilt. Guilt that I didn't volunteer for a harder MOS, more dangerous details alongside "real" soldiers. Guilt that the price being paid by the brave warriors I supported was so much higher than my own. I don't pretend that our service requires the same sacrifice as so many others, but it does require sacrifice. And I've had a very hard time articulating that to my brothers who I served with, when they couldn't take it anymore, when they had enough of rubbernecking when heroes were fighting, bleeding, dying. When they felt broken themselves. When I did.
Anyway, this post has gone on too long and probably sounds like a plea for pity. It isn't. Your words about the soldiers, Marines, everyone who served there have been heard and are appreciated. No, we all didn't serve the same way, but we all served and I'm proud to have stood with them all when the call came. Thank you and I look forward to the next podcast and the next book.
With respect, G.
