“Oh, ok. Yeah, let’s go.” I looked up at the moon again, took a deep breath and headed back to the aircraft. Tony and I sat together the majority of the trip, and after many hours of training and flight time together he had a clear understanding of what I would be doing once we arrived.
As we prepared for takeoff, he leaned over and said to me, “Hey, I’ve been thinking about what you’ve told me you’ll be doing on this deployment.”
“Really? What about it?” I asked.
“Just remember, Jenn, if you get into trouble out there, run. Don’t try to be a hero,” he answered. As I heard him speak those words I began to wonder, what would I do if something horrible did happen? I had never been in a situation like that, and I couldn’t say I knew how I would act. I knew how I hoped I would react, but I was well aware that how a person feels she would handle a situation is often different from the way she actually does. I recalled many times hearing of situations in which the most unlikely person performed heroic acts, or, on the contrary, the most qualified person to handle a tragedy couldn’t take the pressure and cowered in the corner.
As I digested his statement and pondered the unknown, I prayed that I would never have to find the answer to the perplexing question of how I personally would react. I looked at the clock, Manas…..four hours away…..
Day 1
Boots on the Ground
27 April 2008
As we flew over Kyrgyzstan I could see the barren, mountainous earth below. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now on our final descent into Manas. Please fasten your seatbelts and ensure your tray tables are in the upright position and your seatbacks are fully forward. It has been our pleasure and honor to serve you, the men and women of the Armed Forces on this flight. Please stay safe and come home soon.”
The time had dragged for the past twenty seven hours of flight time, but all of a sudden it seemed to race by. The ground was coming closer and closer and then that familiar sensation of the wheels touching ground, and we were there. It was now an official deployment. “Here we go,” is all I could manage to say with a smile to my fellow deployers, but inside my heart was pounding and my thoughts were racing.
Once we taxied to our stopping point on the tarmac another voice sounded over the intercom, only this time it was not the friendly flight attendant, but a harsh military voice telling us to “stand by” and wait for further instruction on deplaning. The voice called for the baggage detail to come forward to begin unloading all of our belongings. A mass of young enlisted troops from both the Army and Air Force plowed forward. Eventually, after the detail had secured our things, they gave us the okay to deplane. As my foot stepped off of the last stair, and onto the asphalt, I had a sudden change of mindset. I was now in this, boots on the ground, and it was time to toughen up and be a “soldier” for six months.
Luckily Tony’s friend, Tim, who was also traveling with us, had a girlfriend (Tracy) who was conveniently deployed to Manas as the commander of the Security Forces squadron and was waiting for us on the flight line with her pickup truck. She greeted us with a smile. “It’s great to see you all made it,” she said as she waited while we got our bags loaded into the bed of the truck. After we secured all of our belongings she was gracious enough to give us a tour of the base. As we drove, she explained where everything was and the basics on how the base operated.
“So this place is pretty small, but easy to navigate,” she stated. “All of the transient tents, where people are typically required to stay, are off to your left; but not to worry, I have secured rooms for you all tonight with some permanent party troops. Jenn, you can stay with me.”
“Wow, thank you so much,” I said gratefully. The transient tents could’ve easily been a disaster; an open bay, sleeping on cots and nights filled with hopes that no one would steal our stuff. Her room was very small, but we could both fit reasonably comfortably and I was thankful for her gracious offer.
She eventually pulled up to the Personnel Command (PERSCO) tent, which was where we in-processed the base. She dropped us off and said, “I’ll come back to pick you guys up after the briefing.”
We surrendered our ID cards and waited in typical military fashion to be told what to do next. The PERSCO members explained that we were to stay in the transient tents (thankfully we would not).
“While you are required to keep accountability of your weapons at all times, you are not required to wear them on your person. This means someone has to be in the presence of the weapon at all times,” said the airman giving us the briefing. This made sense with all that we had been trained prior to leaving country. He continued, “The linens for your cots are in the building across the street on the right. In order to obtain your sheets and pillow you will be required to present two copies of your orders. You are all considered on stand-by status for the next available flight to your final destinations. This means you will need to check in with the terminal every eight hours to see if you are listed on the manifest for the next flight out. Does anyone have any questions?” We all sat in silence, waiting to be dismissed.
After the briefing, Tracy returned and picked us up as promised with a wonderful surprise. “Great news, guys,” she said. “I’ve arranged for you to store your weapons at the Armory.” In that moment I decided she was my new best friend. She had done so much to help make our time there as comfortable as possible.
The rest of the day was spent getting settled, going to the gym and running off the past twenty seven hours of plane time, and finally catching up on sleep. It was Day One of what I expected to be a very unique and life-changing experience.
Day 2
Waiting
28 April 2008
We woke up early in morning, ate breakfast and went straight to the terminal to see if we had a flight out to Bagram; disappointingly we discovered there was nothing. Instead, we saw our names on a list with a big fat “pending” beside them, which meant later, rather than sooner, on getting out of there. We all looked at each other thinking, So now what? We decided to check out the base amenities and stumbled across a wonderful perk of being in the AOR, we could get a full body massage for one full hour for only….are you ready?…. $20! What a great deal! I scheduled myself one of those ASAP. I tended to carry a lot of my stress in my back and I paid for it; I was constantly plagued with knots that could become quite painful at times. My current situation certainly fell under the “high stress” category. With my massage scheduled, I realized I needed a phone and wireless internet so I could contact everyone; especially my husband. It was midday in Manas; therefore, it was in the middle of the night back home, which meant I needed to wait to call until later on in the evening. They offered morale phone calls, which were free, but they were limited to only fifteen minutes a call and we could only use them twice a week. Fortunately, they also had a café with wireless internet and phones where people could pay a small fee to use if they chose.
We decided to go for a run and workout to kill some more time. After we finished the workout we were walking around the base and as I looked up I saw a very familiar appearing face in a crowd of people. It was Dwight, a friend of mine from when I was enlisted; we had gone to technical school together when I was learning how to be a medic nearly eight years prior and hadn’t seen each other since. “Oh my gosh! Dwight! I can’t believe it’s you! Of all places to have a reunion!”
“Wow, Jenn, How are you?” he said.
“Doing awesome, I’m a PA now, and en route to Bagram. What about you?”
“A PA? Wow that’s great! I’m so happy for you. I am actually stationed here for another three months. I’m working in the acute care clinic,” he said. We stood around and chatted, catching up on each other’s lives. He was newly married and permanently stationed in California. I had heard the expression “It’s a small Air Force” for years, and that moment was my first experience when that statement was made true. We agreed to meet up later that evening at a place called “Pete’s,” a hangout spot where we
could actually have up to two alcoholic drinks in a 24 hour period….that is, as long as you were not in the Army, and as luck would have it…I was in the Air Force, so a drink I would have!
After dinner we got issued our C-Bags, which were filled with our nuclear, biological, and chemical (NBC) gear and our Individual Body Armor. The bag was the heaviest thing I had ever lifted, so heavy in fact; I couldn’t walk more than five steps with it before I had to rest. It quite possibly weighed at least, if not more, than what I did.
“Jenn, are you ok? Do you need some help with that?” Tony asked.
“No!” I insisted. “I’ve got it. I just need to stop here and there for a break.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “Stubborn!” he said as he stood waiting as I insistently struggled with my bag. He was right, the last thing I needed was someone to do it for me, even though I secretly would have loved to hand it over. After what seemed like miles of carrying the bag, and my pride, I was thankful to drop it off at the terminal and head on to Pete’s. We all sat around talking for a while and I continued to catch up with Dwight about what was happening in our lives. It was nice to see an old friend, but the whole time we were there I was constantly checking my watch; waiting for a reasonable time to call Greg. After what felt like an eternity it was finally a decent time back home so I hurried to the phone and waited in line to talk to him. I waited for what seemed hours but in reality it was only a few minutes. I got to my booth and dialed his number. The first time I heard his voice the tears instantly welled up in my eyes and a huge lump formed in my throat.
“Hi,” was all I could manage initially.
“Hi sweetie! How are you?” he asked. “It already seems like you have been gone for so long! How was the flight? Where are you?”
I told him the story about my uniform fiasco at the airport, and he laughed. “What did I tell you, Nej?” was all he could manage to say in between bouts of laughter.
I missed him so much already and my deployment was just getting started. We talked for about fifteen minutes and then we had to hang up. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but didn’t have the chance. As I walked back to my room I smiled as I remembered the story of how we met.
April 18, 2003 I went to a country music bar on the strip in Las Vegas. I absolutely did not want to go out that night. I had every intention of cuddling up on my couch in my pajamas with a big bowl of popcorn and watching movies all night with my cat. My girlfriends; however, had different plans.
“Jenn! Come on! It’ll be fun! We need a good night out on the town, just us girls! When was the last time we were all together and able to go dancing?” asked my friend Olivia.
“I’m not sure,” was my response.
“You see? You have to go! We are long overdue for a girls’ night!” After much persuasion they convinced me a night of country music and dancing was what I needed, so I reluctantly put my robe and slippers away and agreed to go. The whole way there I was regretting I let them talk me into putting up with the traffic, Las Vegas tourists, and loud music.
As soon as I walked in I went to the bar, sat down and ordered my favorite drink at the time; cranberry and vodka, and began trying to convince myself I was going to have a good time. Then I looked up, across the bar and my eyes locked on the most amazing person I had ever seen. Greg Clark stood at the entrance, all six feet of him, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn’t that he was the most handsome man I had ever seen; however, that did help, but there was “something” about him that made me feel a way I had never felt before and I knew I had to talk to him. Now, I had been to bars before, and I had seen good looking guys, but this one…well he shook me to my core. My girlfriends saw the expression on my face and knew something was captivating me.
“Jenn, what’s going on?” said Olivia.
“You see that guy over there?” I said. “I have to talk to him. There is something about him that I am so taken with.” They saw the determination in my eyes and knew this was serious business so we strategically planted ourselves in a location where he and his friends were; in between us and the bar.
After passing by several times, he finally noticed me too, and ironically his friends knew mine, which drew our groups together. Olivia made small talk with Greg’s friend, Eric, about the music, the night, the town, whatever she could think of, as Greg and I smiled and exchanged flirting glances with each other. After several moments Greg eventually looked at me and threw his hands in the air as if to say, “Are we going to talk or what?”
I motioned for him to come over, he smiled and gave me the universal sign of “Just one minute.”
I thought, Seriously? What is this guy waiting on? I turned and said the exact same thing to Olivia, and as I turned around he was standing beside me. I immediately asked, “What took you so long, buddy?”
He replied, “Well, I really liked that song, and wanted to finish listening to it.” I thought it was hilarious, which instantly broke the ice and our conversation began to flow freely.
“I’m Jenn,” I said.
“I’m Ryan…Ryan Sherwood,” Greg said. He was about to go on to tell me he was in Las Vegas on business. In fact, he was going to elaborate on how he was in town for a “Homeland Security Conference” as part of his very important job. Unfortunately I beat him to the punch.
“You’re in the military, aren’t you?” I said.
He looked at me with surprise and nodded.
“Well, don’t look so surprised, Ryan. Your haircut gives you away. I’m military too. I’m stationed here, are you?”
Again, he looked at me and nodded his head. We told each other the basics about ourselves; where we were from, what we did, he had a son; I had a cat. We laughed, and danced and had a great time.
At one point, when we were sitting at the bar, he looked up at me and said bashfully, “Jenn, I have a confession to make.”
Oh, here it comes, I thought! This guy is married and instead of one kid he has five! Of course he would! He’s too perfect otherwise.
“Jenn, my name is not really Ryan, its Greg.”
“What?”
“Listen! We’re in a bar on the strip in Las Vegas,” he insisted. “You know as well as I do everyone you meet here is from out of town. What are the chances of meeting someone else who lives here, let alone someone who is also active duty?” I smiled. Little did he know I had done the same thing in the past. I would often tell people my name was “Bernice” or something like that to keep my distance… but not from this guy. I saw the expression of concern on his face that this was the beginning of the end of our incredible encounter.
I figured I would let him sweat it out for a bit. “Well, Greg, how do I know that is your name? Perhaps I should request a formal background check.” I was having fun with it, but I could tell he was sincerely sorry.
“No look! Here’s my military ID! You see? Gregory Ryan Clark. And if you think about it, technically I wasn’t lying completely; see Ryan is my middle name.”
I looked at the card and confirmed he was actually who he said he was this time. I also noted the date he entered the service; July 5th, which just so happened to be my birthday. Interesting. Oh, man, I liked him. I decided to let him off the hook, and as the night went on Greg and I started out on what would become our lifelong romance. I will never forget the last song of the night. We danced to “The Dance” by Garth Brooks and I couldn’t help but smile about how I almost didn’t come out and meet this wonderful man. We exchanged phone numbers and he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Do you mind if I call you tomorrow and ask you out on a proper first date?”
I smiled and responded, “You better!”
He leaned in again and said simply, “You have my word.”
Wowza. My heart was pounding. Such a gentleman! As we said goodnight, I knew there was a special reason why we were brought together that night, even if it was in a bar, on the strip, in Las Vegas of all places.
As promised, he called
me the very next day. Our conversation seemed to start right where we left off the night before; it was so easy to talk with him. Ironically I ended up in the hospital the following week due to an unfortunate incident with a cat bite (A piece of advice: don’t ever put a scared cat in a bathtub full of water, it doesn’t end well). When I told him what happened his playful response was, “Wow, if you didn’t want to go out with me, you could have just said so!”
Despite my unlucky circumstances we talked on the phone every day I was admitted and exactly one week after we met, we had our first date. As I watched him walk up to my door, I felt that same feeling that overwhelmed me when I first saw him in the bar. The conversation through the night flowed effortlessly and we laughed and flirted. I got us lost trying to find the restaurant, but we couldn’t get enough of each other. When we met, I still thought I was going to pursue the nursing degree, and my package was already submitted. As the evening went on, I couldn’t get past the fact I would be leaving in a few short months for school, once I got accepted into the program. I had to be honest with him. I will never forget the conversation: “Greg, listen, I like you a LOT, but, I’ve got goals, and I am going to finish school and when I get selected for this commissioning program, it means I will be leaving in four months. So… we’re going to have to figure this thing out.”
He could have responded in so many ways to that, I think most guys would have been like, “Well, see ya!” but he didn’t, instead he said, “Wow, that’s great that you have such drive. I agree, we are just going to have to find a way to make this thing happen.”
I was so lucky to have this man in my life, I thought, as I stood outside my room in Manas. We had such an instant connection when we met, and we have continued to build an incredible friendship. I sat down on the steps and remembered how supportive of me he had always been. I remembered how comforting he was when I was so devastated by the rejection for the nursing program, and how he pushed me to pursue becoming a PA.
166 Days: My Journey Through The Darkness Page 3