Are We Crazy?

Joran, Caleb, and I stood inside camp Adams a Marine Corps stationing base in Charikar, Afghanistan. We were waiting to talk to Staff Sergeant Reese. We all had our strengths which encouraged us to join the Corps.  Joran McGregor Is a average height well built blond man, he was a Sergeant in our Squad echo actual, he was always well built, I am and was always a better shot than him but he ended up our Marksman, probably because hes more stealthy than I am. Caleb Burger is a little shorter than Joran but was always very well built arms the size of 105 mm’s, which is probably why he ended up our heavy gunner, he loves the kick of a m249, Caleb is a Private First Class. I am a very tall brown haired man I’ve always been a little chubby but now I'm flat stomached and averagely strong. I always was a good shot, as a matter of fact the best in my class of 250, I graduated Corporal. But when I joined I took an interest in medicine, I really wanted to go to Afghanistan and help the children and when I found that the Marine Corps had a Corpsman program I purposely failed scout sniper training to get into the Corpsman program, and some how I ended up in the same squad as Joran and Caleb.

         We were waiting in the Staff Sergeant's office inside was a olive drab tarp draped across 8 long 2x4’s that made a large rectangle the floor was a mixture of drywall flats and sand. We were all standing in front of his desk waiting for him to arrive his desk was mostly Marine issue metal and a raunchy tattered chair. Reese walked through the blanket flap behind us.



“Ten-Hut” Joran ordered. 



“At Ease” replied Reese.



We switched to standard parade stance.



“Okay devil dogs, hears the situation, Colonel Owens says we should be more aggressive towards the insurgents attacking The neighborhoods. So tomorrow I want echo actual and platoon bravo on it, Ooorah?”.



“OORAH” we fired back.



“Good Your briefing will be tomorrow at 0730, dismissed”.



We exited the room and walked out into the plethora of tents a tattered wooded structures known at camp Adams. The ground was sand and rock which caused a lot of us in Marine second division to stumble a lot. We walked into the mess tent to get some Marine issue grub, or an MRE (meal ready to eat). The food arrived in a plastic sealed package thats air tight. We all opened our MRE’s and Caleb got tuna casserole, Joran got hot dogs, and I got spaghetti. In side were 4 small boxed and two baggies with powdered drink, we sat and ate our meals.



“sweet, I gotta pop tart”



Joran proclaimed. Most of the day went on the same sand crappy food, and interchangeable orders, and actions. Except for that night….

         We were in our bunks which is a sand floored tarp covered tent, I was writing in my journal, the passage was about life before we joined the corps we were thought to be psychos, Caleb lived in a family with little acceptance and the were all tough whiskey tango dicks. Caleb felt little love and acceptance from his parents but had a wish to kill and thats why we he was thought to be crazy. Joran was much the same his mother had 9 children he was the second born, and after his brother first born went to prison his mother became involved in a game called “awesome life” and expected him to watch the children and cook meals, he began to hate his family and wanted nothing more than to join the Corps and kill for a living. I'd assume I'm the crazies of the tripod, I was born in to a divorce though I always felt love from both my mother and my father as well as my 6 siblings, but even as a small child Ive always wanted to kill people, I had everything I wanted, felt love and friendship, but I still was never quite in a right state of mind. I got heavy into marijuana in high school and it caused panic attacks which put me in “not all there state of mind”. I had the thousand yard stare before even experiencing combat, though I had a problem getting a hold on my emotions. I was always a happy go lucky teenager, but it was my abusive stepfather who really could make me violently angry at the smallest of things. I guess that made me seem the craziest. My journal entry was interrupted by the screams for a Corpsman. Lance Corporal Dillard flew into our tent,



“Corporal Kinsman we need u in the aid station immediately”.



They don't normally ask a Corpsman to assist in the aid station, Corpsman are normally only field medics. But I jumped up and followed Dillard, leaving Caleb and Joran behind to play xbox360. When I arrived at the aid station I realized why the ordered for my help the were 15 wounded and 7 of them needed surgery. I was asked to perform first aid on the 8 who didn't need surgery, none of them certainly got to me, except for one he was 18 and just got out of infantry training, he was only in the corps to get money for college, I got to know a little bit about him he was short and had black hair he was stocky and quite funny in the face of death but he was terrified and I could tell, although I was sure he'd pull through. He had lacerations to his neck from a grenade his jugular had already been stitched. His neck was black a red from scabs and dried blood the blood reached from his forehead down to his stomach, I left about the time he was being cleaned. I returned to my bunk exhausted, to find Caleb and Joran already sleeping. I laid down in my bunk which was a old springy cot with many holes and hanging cotton. I thought a lot about the man I met in the aid station, as I drifted of to sleep.

                               

                                     To Be Continued