Reflections of 9/11 Long Ago...
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| Courtesy of www.johnsocial.com |
Yesterday was September
11th. Until 12 years ago,
it’s just another day. Now, it’s a day
to mourn and remember for many Americans.
Right now, I’m in Japan.
On September 11th for past 12 years, I’ve been in various
places—work, college, and the Middle East. Yesterday, my Japanese friend, a high school
teacher, asked me where I was on the fateful day in 2001.
Thus, I felt inspired to
share my story. It’s not that I had a
divine epiphany, so why am I doing this now?
Maybe it’s because I’m living in a different country now. Or it’s 10 years ago since I set foot in the
Middle East. Or I’m more aware in
current events nowadays. Or I’m getting
old. Most likely, I just want to write down
my thoughts before they disappear with the sands of time.
My story’s nothing
dramatic. It’s not “I watched the Twin
Towers fall in NYC” or “I narrowly escaped the blast at the Pentagon” or “I was
already deployed on secret missions with an unknown 3-letter-acronym government agency”. I’m an average person going down memory lane,
on how this event changed my life. For
those who know me (or think they know me), this story may have some revelations.
September 11, 2001. Before that summer, I dropped out of
college. It wasn’t a money issue because
I had a full ride to one of the best engineering school in the States (hint:
two of its grads created YouTube). I was
bored, I was tired of school, and I was disillusioned with the expected path of
life (school, career, family). I want to
see the world and become totally independent, now. So I joined the Army.
When I signed up, it was
a peacetime Army. I was enticed by the
prospect of adventure, college money, and shooting guns. Yes, we had deployments, mostly U.N.
peacekeeping missions. I heard of
Kosovo, the Balkans, Korea, etc. But to
me, they were faraway lands that I knew from snippets on TV. They may as well be on a different
planet. My knowledge of war was through video
games and movies (think Saving Private Ryan).
My world was the confines of middle class America. I may have immigrated from elsewhere as a kid,
but that was a lifetime ago to me.
It was Tuesday. I was on my last week of Infantry School,
just came out of our last field exercise that weekend. Just before 9am (when the first tower was
hit), we were roused to formation.
Something like “We’re just attacked” and “We’re going to war”. Most of us just thought our First Sergeant
was having flashbacks from ‘Nam. Then we
saw the TV footage; it reminded me of the TV promotions for the movie
“Independence Day” back in 1996. Except
it was real. I might not be as keen as
others on the gravity of the situation, but deep down I knew something’s
changed.
The next few days was
tense, as it was around the country.
We’re on 24-hour lockdown, on guard duty around Ft. Benning. Flights around the country were cancelled,
which made going home in a few days difficult.
America went to war with
the Taliban later that year. But to me, Afghanistan
was another faraway land. I hardly
followed the war’s progress (until years later as history on Wikipedia). I was back in the States, relatively safe and
sound. It didn’t concern me.
Fast-forward to
2003. Recently, I turned 21. We’re on daily lockdown, getting ready for
some kind of deployment. We’re staging
in Kuwait, our leaders said, for something.
Rumors had it that we’re going to war, with somebody.
My knowledge of the
Middle East was, once again, through the movies, specifically “Three Kings”
with George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, and Ice Cube. The Arabs were towelheads and camel jockeys,
the nicer names among others. My culture
was American. Hell, I hardly knew about
my original culture; I chose to
forget to better integrate into America.
Then I went to war, a
three-week, all-out, ass-kicking blitz toward Baghdad. I was at Tallil, Karbala, Hillah, the places
that I can recall now. I remember living
and making history while the world watched on.
I remember the overwhelming smell of the dead, and the countless mangled
corpses strewn along our path to victory.
And there was the day when we’re on the receiving end of 155mm
artillery, courtesy of the Iraqi Republican Guards. Close enough to see the shells coming directly toward us and feel the blasts. It was the scariest and most exciting experience in my life. Glad that I didn't become addicted to it.
Skip to the end of 2006. I was getting out. My unit was disbanding, part of an Army-wide
move to re-position itself for the new Middle East fight. By now, I had two tours overseas. I was a staff sergeant, supposed to be a
position of responsibility. I wasn’t the
best NCO (non-commissioned officer), in fact far from it. But I did my job. I played the game well enough to be noticed
and get promoted. For the
few people I was ever responsible for, no one died. And I came home without a scratch.
But I definitely
changed. I had a new outlook on the
world. I had become more outspoken, more
willing to take the lead, and more open to take risks. I want to see and do it all. In short, I felt empowered.
I went back to school,
making use of my skills, newfound motivation, and compensation from the
American government. I took every
opportunity to see the world, going on trips and exchange programs in almost
every school break. I spent even less
time at home now than when I was enlisted.
In school, I was constantly looking for groups to start, organize, and
run. By my senior year, I was an officer
or president of 5 campus organizations, along with other programs, building up
a massive resume. I enjoyed meeting new
people, trying new things, and rising to the challenge.
But I still remember my
years past. I learned to appreciate the
basic comforts of American society (imagine not having to sit on a box and
plastic bag to take a dump); I hated the college children who call the
whambulance every other minute. And I don’t like sitting idle: if something
needs to be done, it’s done now. The
ever-present urgency of everything was a nasty habit from the Army.
Time leap to winter
2010. I made it out of school, and they
were more of the best years of my life.
Lots of long days and nights, lots of petty bullshit to deal with, but
all-in-all great experiences and lasting friendships. Who says you can’t translate skills of a
grunt to success in engineering school?
I went overseas for 6
weeks after graduation, like 3 days later.
I country-hopped around Asia, visiting family, people I’ve met over the
years, and places that I’ve only read on Wikipedia until then. I had many new and crazy shenanigans, like
the death march from Sydney Airport to my hostel in the steaming summer
(January in Australia) with a high fever.
How I escaped quarantine was beyond me.
Whenever I thought I couldn’t do something or was about to chicken out,
I thought of the years past and manned up.
I had an awesome post-grad trip.
Onward to mid-2012. We killed Osama bin Laden, the man
unanimously agreed as the one responsible for 9/11, about a year ago. Second year on my engineering job, and I was
growing ever more dissatisfied. Long
hours with little to show for and even less in appreciation. I had convinced myself earlier to settle down,
but I was wrong. That summer, my college
reunion trip to Asia with six of my good friends reinforced that conclusion. I was restless and dying to be out in the world again.
Present time 2013. I took the leap of faith and quitted my job
earlier in the year. Of course, I found
a new one first, which led me here to Japan.
Keeping my job search and acquisition a secret until the final days was
easy; people at work were overloaded with their careers and families to care
about anyone else’s. A whole new
uncharted career field and much less pay, but new challenges and experiences
await. So far, it’s been nothing but
good times.
Here’s my look-back on
9/11: however tragic that fateful day was, I’m grateful for the days and years
that followed. Sure, the reason we went
full-force into the Middle East was false, and many lives were needlessly lost
and messed up. For me, I’m grateful for
the people I met, the places I went, the opportunities I had, and the life I
led, due to the chain of events since that fateful day. While no words of mine can fully convey my
gratitude, I am grateful for the dedication and sacrifice of those who brought
all of us to this day, twelve years and one day after September 11, 2001.
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| Courtesy of inktheworld.blogspot.com |
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