IStock Photo 2265622 © Rockfinder

Sometimes I think people derive too much of their perceptions of war from the movies. They see Saving Private Ryan, Band of Brothers, We Were Soldiers, and other such flicks, and think that those who go to war endure trials beyond the understanding of the average citizen. What they don't see is the other side of war. The boredom. The enduring long days of no activity, no purpose, just waiting endlessly for a task to arise that needs to be taken care of.

In other ways things happen in reality that seem oddly out of a movie script. Soldiers sent to war right after giving birth to their first child. A soldier getting a letter from his wife announcing she is leaving him for the next door neighbor (just happened yesterday).

I am again reminded of my first few days of basic training. We arrive with visions of Full Metal Jacket in our heads (the most accurate depiction of basic training), thinking we are going to immediately get issued weapons with live rounds and start tackling an obstacle course. Instead we are issued a set of sweats and we stand in line for days on end while we are medically screened, given shots, and told to stay awake and stop talking. No pushups, no fast roping out of helicopters, no kicking in doors and clearing rooms.

Back in the States when an Army recruiting commercial comes on TV, I change the channel or mute the sound. Images of soldiers running through amber waves of grain as the rising sun silhouettes Apache gunships make me want to puke. Sometimes, just to push my buttons, my soldiers will play the soundtrack from those commercials over the radio during mission. To us there is a strong sense of pride in what we do. The commercials don't embody it in any way. It is hard to explain why, but it is a slap in the face to watch. I think I am mostly annoyed at the message of "come join the Army so you can learn skills to use in the civilian world." At least the Marines have a message of "come join us to be a badass." I am sure no Marine sticks around for a few years and still thinks it’s as cool as the commercial makes it look. Then there is the Navy, which pretty much shows footage of SEALS doing training or fighter jets screaming off the deck of an aircraft carrier.

Let’s get back to the boredom. I get emails and Facebook messages from people who say they could never understand what I am going through. Yesterday I watched almost three entire seasons of Family Guy, then found that our small PX had received a shipment of Red Bull and proceeded to purchase $85 worth. Oh, and I took a nap. I stopped by the TOC (Tactical Operations Command) to see if any patrol has had contact. Turns out the same supply unit that sent me three kilometers into the desert searching for a suspected IED that turned out to be a Pop Tart wrapper has taken small arms fire from a mud brick compound. No, wait—correction. It was kids throwing rocks again.

Ever since the fighting died down in Helmand Province we have encountered much less in the ways of dangerous adversity. The IEDs we do find (or that find us) are rather puny and pose much more of an annoyance than anything else. It is the beginning of the spring poppy growing season and so only the full time hardcore Taliban is active right now. In a few months the harvest will end and the auxiliary conscripts will join in the fight, or so I am told, and maybe then some new challenges will arise.

Part of me hopes for more fighting. Fighting makes the time pass, and when time passes I can go home and see my friends and family and move on with my life. It is like a time warp when I am being pushed out on multi-day missions that test my stamina. On the other hand, I could cherish the days dragging on. With no fighting comes no missions comes endless hours trying to keep my mind occupied. With no fighting come increased odds of me going home in one piece. I still have a long way to go and I suppose I will look back on the slow times and yearn for the lack of activity.

There is one guilty pleasure that I indulge in. We are all taking turns reading the Bible. No, I don't mean the Christian Bible, I mean a much more seedy version of it. It is a book called The Game by Neil "Style" Strauss. We call it the Bible for two reasons: A.) it is leather bound with gold leaf on the pages and a small ribbon bookmark attached; B.) it is a book that tells the story of a prophet. He is a man who is capable of picking up pretty much any woman he wants, despite the fact that he is bald, in his forties, about 5'7", and just generally not especially good looking. He gives hope to us all. It is his story about going from being an average guy to learning the social skills needed to successfully seduce any woman he pleases. And it is supposedly true. He talks about conversational techniques, how to push the limits of a woman's comfort zone without seeming like a creep, and especially different exercises one can do to get over the fear of approaching a woman.

I would never read this sordid garbage back in the US, much less admit to it, but here there is no shame. I guess it is the same thing that drives some people to read trashy romance novels. The PX here has a lot of trashy romance novels. I don't see anyone reading them, though. We all read The Gameand we have several more copies on order from Amazon.com to pass around. If anything, it is entertaining. I still find it interesting that so many of the men in my platoon are scared to approach a woman and engage her in conversation, yet will willingly and without question storm a known Taliban compound. So in the meantime we relegate our female interaction to Maxim magazine as well as the huge box of autographed Hooters calendars that arrived one day for no reason.

The activity of war moves in spikes and lulls, peaks and valleys. It is like a diagram of a radio wave. I picture myself fighting to stay awake in high school physics class. I was only part of the Marja offensive because I was in the right place at the right time. Soon another offensive will crop up and I will most likely take no part in it. It occurred to me I am going to be turning 25 this year and I will officially be in my mid twenties. I can't help but feel like I could have used this time to accomplish other things. I have friends my age who have a graduate degree, are married, and have started on a promising lifelong career. I don't feel like having the Army as a career is written in prophecy for me, but that is an entire discussion for another time. Tomorrow begins another set of missions; I won't sit here stewing in the recesses of my own mind.

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