Cheese!

The other night, before we ate chow, we had what I can only describe as a “post-mortem photo op.” In basic training they forced us to get our pictures taken and then gave us the option of buying photograph packages of wallets and 8 x 10 to send to our family and friends. The other night no such packages were offered. This mandatory photo shoot serves a much different, much more morbid purpose. The picture, myself seated in front of an American flag, will only see the light of day if I “buy it” in Iraq. Bum deal. These are the photos that are printed in the Army Times newspaper or are show on CNN once some poor guy gets “clipped” (sorry, I’ve been watching the Soprano’s lately). Needless to say, it wasn’t a morale boost. On a brighter side, the lady taking the pictures said that we were the only unit that actually smiled for the shot. Damn right I did. I’m not going out looking all serious and soldierly. I have a big old goofy grin on my face. Lucky for my friends and I, we have decided ahead of time that we’re all coming back safe and sound. So lucky for all of you, no one will ever have to see that ridiculous grin on my face. But seriously, there isn’t any reason to consider this worrisome. Every soldier, whether they work in an air conditioned office in Kuwait or fight on the front lines in Falluja, must have this same photo taken. It in no way indicates the level of danger I or others will face. It was just kind of a funny, though morose, anecdote that I thought I’d pass along.