Off to the promised land

The trip home from Iraq was more or less hellish. The process of getting out of country is a long and complicated one. Once in Kuwait you are shuffled around endlessly from one station to the next to fill out paper work, organize our flight plans, and pass your bags through customs. Once the process begins there is very little time to stop and rest. Those first two days in Kuwait I don’t think anyone got more than five or six hours of sleep.

Apparently, the only thing the military finds more difficult than trying to coordinate military flights is trying to coordinate with commercial flights. The plane that was scheduled to rescue us from that hell hole that afternoon had technical problems somewhere in route and didn’t arrive. Our departure time was pushed back no less than five times, all the while we patiently (grumbled) waited in a concrete room sitting in uncomfortable lawn chairs. We would have all preferred to wait it out in bunk beds back where we slept the first night but were not allowed. All soldiers at this point were on lock-down and were carefully monitored to keep us from smuggling contraband. I guess they thought that if we were allowed to leave their sight, even if just to sleep, there would be the inevitable soldier who tried to smuggle a hand grenade home to show his buddies.

Eventually, and despite my worst fears, our plane finally arrived and we all boarded in high spirits. A sergeant from my unit was also going home on R & R and we sat together on the plane discussing all the things we planned to do at home.

When our plane finally reached the Dallas airport, after more than sixteen hours in the air, we were all once again exhausted. It was 12 midnight, and though I was grateful to be back in the States, I mostly just wanted a place to lay my head down and sleep. Thankfully, we were told that Uncle Sam had provided us all with hotel rooms where we could shower and rest until we caught our morning flights. I grabbed my duffle back from the baggage claim and headed out the doors of the terminal.

All at once I was struck by loud applause and cheering. Waiting outside the gate were a hundred Texans there to greet our first steps back in America. There were kids in scout uniforms, and men and women of all ages lined up on each side of us waving flags and banners. Each one down the line shook my hand, telling me sincerely that they appreciated my service. It was enough to choke a guy up. Only in Texas could you gather a group of a hundred people in the middle of the night to greet soldiers, hugging us and telling us that they were glad we were home. Once outside on the sidewalk, a man walked back and forth with a tray packed with every brand of cigarette you can imagine. Another lady walked up and down the line with cell phones offering them to soldiers to make calls to their families. As we boarded shuttles to our hotel, one man even announced that he was going to follow us there with a pickup truck stocked with cold beer. It truly felt great to be back; and though I wasn’t home quite yet, I don’t think I have ever felt so welcome anywhere in my life as I did in Texas that night.

Though it was nice to have comfortable bed and a hotel room to myself, I didn’t sleep at all. I was like a kid on Christmas Eve. I knew that only sleep would make the time go faster, but my heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that I just couldn’t manage to keep my eyes closed.

The next morning I headed back to the airport and jumped on the last plane on my trip home. Believe me when I say that it was the longest four hour flight I’ve ever experienced. As we grew nearer to Portland I looked out my window at the seemingly endless expanses of Northwest forest land. The green has never looked as green as it did at that moment. The views of wilderness and mountain tops gave me a deepened sense of appreciating for the American landscape. Our country is one hell of a beautiful place, and if you don’t believe me then spend some time a bit farther East and you’ll see what I mean.

When our plane finally landed at the Portland Airport it was all I could do to keep from climbing over the other passenger and clawing my way through the airplane door. I waited patiently for all the old ladies to slowly rise from their seats and fiddle with their carry-on as I made my way out of the plane. As I walked out of the jet-way I saw my family huddled together waiting for me. I walked calmly toward them with a big goofy grin on my face and hugged them one at a time, and then repeated the process another half dozen times. It was amazing to finally see their faces after so long. It was like a dream, and I fully intended to bask in it for another two weeks. Finally home.