Inconceivable as it may seem, some day I’m going to leave this place, and that day is approaching – though much too slowly.
With the approach of our departure, a sensation akin to disappointment settles over me. It’s a disappointment borne from the fact that I realize that there isn’t going to be a climactic finale, an epic closure to our long, bizarre trip. Rather, one day I’ll wake up, drive over to BIAP, walk up the ramp of a C-130, and forty-five minutes later I’ll be in Kuwait, out of Iraq and out of the war and only days from being home. It’s an anticlimax if there ever was one.
I love to tell a story – I’ve been able to weather everything on this deployment because I knew that, at least, it’d make a good story. But now I’m faced with the prospect of the story being essentially over, having no good wrap-up. I’ve written about this phenomenon before – there’s not going to be the Final Battle of B Company, some kind of balls-to-the-wall dash from Baghdad to Kuwait on MSR Tampa, with guns blazing and shelter trucks hurtling along and glowing red with the heat of air friction as the home-made turbos kick in.
I could at least get a good ending out of all this business, but it looks like I’m going to have to be creative with my wrap-up.