My first mission to Iraq.

I sat in the first platoon area of the dusty, sandy, 778 motor pool. It was warm out and the sun felt good beating down on my face. My mind was distracted as I thought about my first trip north into Iraq. I was headed into the unknown on my first mission. Destination: VBC to pick up some rolling stock as well as some conexes and bring them back south into Kuwait. I was scared, yes, but I was more excited than anything. The thrill of danger and of not knowing if we were going to come back to camp safe or damaged was invigorating.

I was the driver for the convoy commander. We were on our right seat ride mission, so we had soldiers riding along with us from the 494^th Transportation Company out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky. My HET would be hauling both convoy commanders as well as the 494^th company First Sergeant. We headed out right after Christmas. Some of us had gotten colorful boxes from our families and friends full of goodies that we packed up for our long haul north. With our trucks full of snack food and energy drinks, we headed off to Camp Buehring for the night. Once we left Camp Buehring, our journey had officially begun. We were heading into the unknown of Iraq.

We had received our S2 briefing and had heard all about the recent IED attacks, sniper fire, and small arms fire scattered around and were officially ready. We donned our IOTV, ACH, and made sure a magazine was within arms reach. I wasn’t nervous until we reached K-Crossing and one of the men said a prayer. Once a prayer was said, I realized the possibility of not returning home from this trip. I started thinking about our ‘enemy.’ To me, this enemy was invisible.

The enemy stayed invisible for the duration of our convoy. We had no incidences. The only Iraqi’s I saw sat in shacks along the roadside for selling food and other items, as well as a few children outside the gates of Adder who were begging for food. We drove for hours upon hours. We drove at night, according to standard operating procedures, to reduce the risk of attack. As we drove, we talked to each other about our families and where our lives were going to go when we left this deployment. We listened to music as we guzzled multiple energy drinks and ate honey buns. We did anything to stay awake.

And finally, we were back in Buehring again. A collective sigh of relief was breathed in each truck as we realized that we were on the final stretch back to our little AO’s (Area of Operation). Maybe now we could get some much-needed rest. We rolled into Camp Arifjan as a new year rolled across the pages of the calendar, and my first mission into Iraq had been completed.

In all of this, I never once thought about the fact that I was an intricate part of a country at war. To this day, I am amazed at how routine missions can become. Soldiers look forward to leaving the wire for a little break from our garrison lives here at Camp Arifjan without, it seems, a thought about the threat of harm. We have come to desire the excitement and thrill of possible danger, until it happens. It is true, each and every one of us are apart of this thing called war. We fight from desks, motor pools, maintenance tents and convoys, but we are all fighting for freedom and for what is right. We must never forget what we are here for.