Theme Week 8 Impact

Sgt Jordan volunteered to be the "A" driver today and I would assume the "B" driver role on the mission.
"This is going to be an easy one today."
"Fa real" I said, "One trip up and one trip back, piece of cake. I can't wait to get this drive over with and get out of this heat."
The mission was easy, Our platoon was scheduled to convoy in Kuwait. We had orders to move to Camp Doha and load concrete barriers on our flatbed M931 tractor trailers. After securing the load of barriers we would travel back to base camp, Camp Arifjan.

Sitting in the passenger seat of that truck was very uncomfortable, especially in 135 degree heat. I was strapped into position tighter than the shoelace on my army boots. My uniform that day was a 3ft machine gun, Kevlar Helmet on my head, tinted desert goggles that would fog up with every breath of my nostrils, and a 45lb protective vest that couldn't stop a staple at point blank range. I could see myself in the truck side-view mirror, I looked like a ghetto ninja turtle. I hated having to wear all of that gear everytime that we had to convoy. It's true that we were in the middle of war during Operation Iraqi Freedom and wearing that equipment was essential to keeping a soldier alive should we become engaged in combat. That was the problem though, It was September and our unit has been in Kuwait since April. There was a better chance of someone seeing their shadow in the shade then there was of our platoon seeing any action. I looked over at Sgt Jordan as he was driving and could tell that he was equally uncomfortable, his mustache and chin strap soaked with sweat.

Our vehicles travel 8 deep in a tight convoy on the "7 Ring Road Highway" in Kuwait. We were moving at snail's pace because two lanes over to the left was a convoy of marine vehicles. In the middle lanes and on our right there was a tremendous amount of local traffic. From a bird's eye view the scenery must have looked like an assembly line of sardines heading to the cannery. The way that the locals of that country drove seemed almost insane. There was a posted speed limit that nobody observed. Those folks were in a hurry, you could see their children playing around unbuckled as the cars would speed past our convoy. Some of the Kuwaitie teenagers, on motorcycles, would cruise by the convoys giving us the finger, and at times coming so close to the trucks that they were in jeopardy of being shot. I hated that place, I just wanted to do the mission and get back to the tent so I could complain to my journal about being in a country where we are fighting for people that hate the United States.

I asked Sgt. Jordan, "Who's that ahead of us?"
"I think it's Michaud and Ruebeck, " he responded.
"Well when they get back, they need to inspect their vehicle" I said.

I had noticed, during the stop and go traffic, that the brake lights on the truck in front of us were not working properly. I would look to the left to see if the marine convoy was having better traveling mercy than we were; I also did my job by looking in front and to the right at the local traffic. I wanted to go to sleep on the ride but my integrity wouldn't let me so I just kept getting pissed at that country for all of my uncomfortability.

"WHAT WAS THAT!?"
"OH SNAP! I THINK THERE SOMETHING IN THE ROAD," I shouted back.
Something seemed to have been tossed in the road next to the marine convoy. Cars and military vehicles were swerving and stopping suddenly. There was a lot of screeching and I postured myself with my weapon ready for anything. I looked at Sgt Jordan and then in front and at that moment time seemed to stop. I was in an adrenaline induced state of alertness that made everything appear to be in slow motion. It was the same effect that was used in "The Six Million Dollar Man," to show him running fast the video was slowed down. In that state, I noticed that truck, with the faulty brake lights, in front of us was not moving and my truck still was. I could see Sgt Jordan mouthing cuss words and the words "HOLD ON" but the sound did not make it as fast as the visuals did. We were going to crash into the vehicle ahead of us, at a high rate of speed. With everything in slow motion I thought to myself, "there is no way that we are going to survive." I had settled within me that these are my last moments of time. In my head, I played out the scenario that I would probably be thrown through the windshield and crushed to death, or ejected from the seat to land in the traffic on the right of me and ran over by the local traffic. My family and friends faces were all I could see next. I braced for the impact by grabbing a thin bar in front me, while trying to get in the best fetal position possible in all of that gear. I was going to die.

Then there was just noise. CRAAAAASH!!!!!!! The sound of two army trucks, 10 tons apiece, colliding. Everything sped back up, I heard noise and felt my head hit the windshield at the same time that the seatbelt snapped. I was bounced back into my seat and thrown, knees first, into the steel dashboard. I was thinking to myself, "that's it, my knees have to be broke." There was more noise, screeching and metal, and cuss words. Just that quick, the noise stopped, the rattling stopped and I could here breathing. It was my breathing, and my goggles were foggy.
"Weav! Are you alright buddy?"
"Yeah, what about you Dale...you o.k.?"
I was alive, I couldn't believe it. How was that possible? "Oh my goodness," I said as I hopped out of the truck. Sgt Jordan was trembling and I noticed the soldiers in my platoon gathered around the truck in front of us. The fifth wheel was sheered off. The impact of the vehicles was so strong that the steel bolts holding the fifth wheel, of the truck in front, were sliced clean. Were Michaud and Ruebeck injured or worse, were they killed? Some of our soldiers were in position pulling security as the team leaders and convoy commanders got together to assess the damage and the situation. Miraculously, Michaud and Ruebeck, Sgt Jordan and I were alive. I had the right sense about me and thanked God at that moment.

We did finish the mission that day. Dale and I switched roles and I drove on the way back to base. My knees were hurting so the next day I went to the medical tent. I didn't recieve an x-ray or a physical, just 800 mg of motrin.

Four years after that accident I still suffer from knee pain. When we got back to U.S. a year later, x-rays revealed that my knee caps were shattered and some of the pieces did not grow back together. I had surgery and am looking towards more surgery. I am thankful for surviving that accident, but there is a part of me that feels guilty. It is as if death is trying to make me feel conviction for avoiding it. I thought that I was going to die, my life didn't flash before my eyes, it went in slow motion. I continue to have nightmares about that day, that moment in Kuwait.

I know I am home now, but my pain and my dreams are keeping me in Kuwait.