Song Du Jour

Sadam's famed Cross Sabres over his parade field right outside F.O.B. Union III           

I encountered all kinds of music from various comrades while serving.  I got into country because it relaxes me.  I got into heavy metal because the growling, longhaired and heavily pierced screamer that sounded like a constipated bear bellowing "KICK THE PUPPIES, EAT THE BABIES," actually made sense to me in the middle of a firefight. Then there is music that nobody understands why I listen to it.

           

Crazyhorse Troop had been going balls to the wall for over 9 months when we finally got a time to rest in the land known as “The Green Zone.” Holy shit this place was paradise.  People that were there for the duration of their time in Iraq had no idea how nice they had it.  We got to stay in an old administrative building near the Bath Party Headquarters on F.O.B. Union III that was half collapsed in the middle from a bomb during the invasion.  We stayed on the second floor and spent down time smoking cigarettes and playing the guitar.  Occasionally we would be entertained by people running and screaming for shelter.

            “What’s that noise, Puppet?” I asked.

            “I think it’s an alarm for incoming,” Puppet replied.

We never had the luxury of a warning before.  We knew the incoming rounds weren’t going to land on the F.O.B. that day, because we didn’t hear the whistle the rounds make if they are close.  However, the people who never went outside the wire sure as hell didn’t know that.  They were screaming and scurrying like scared squirrels to find a hard shelter while dawning green helmets and black protective vests.  They had no idea where they were going, but it was fascinating to see people freak out when the danger was so far off.

            “The fuck are they doing, Vance?” Puppet asked.

            “I can’t breathe!” I laughed.

            You’ll have to forgive us for being so desensitized.  Actually, don’t.  Just get used to it. 

            Our tempo slowed to just two missions or patrols a day and spending a week at a time at C.O.P. Remagen then going back to missions for a couple more weeks.  After mission we would go to the open area created by the invasion’s blasts.  There was a local guy that was allowed to come in, set up a kabob stand and sell cheap food to some stinky soldiers.  We simply referred to the area as “The Hodgy Stand.”  The local guy also set up a small tube TV with a Jerry-rigged antenna that would make even McGuiver jealous.

            The TV in the Hodgy Stand would only show 3 channels.  One was news in Arabic.  Another was an Arabic music video station.  The third showed American music videos.  The thing about that channel is that it showed the same three videos all-day, everyday.   So after mission we would run to the Hodgy Stand to eat kabobs, drink stale Pepsi from tiny 8 oz. cans, smoke and watch these videos to relax, but what was so special about these videos?

            Before I reveal these videos I feel the need to ask you to imagine our mindset.  We had been living like savages and this was the first nice place we came to.  It was the summer of 2007, we hadn’t seen a female since the previous summer and we stunk like shit.  We smelled so bad that we could be walking and as the wind picked up, we'd sniff something wonderful, stop dead in our tracks, simultaneously turn and BAM!

“Chicks dude.”

           

            Back at the Hodgy Stand we sat in awe as Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend,” and Fergie’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” echoed throughout the accidental courtyard.  White Platoon found an escape.  These songs brought us such happiness that we were there almost everyday.  Rihanna was in sparkling silver body paint sounding like a stuttering badass with her “ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, oh.”  Avril was running around in a schoolgirl outfit being chased by a hotter version of herself.  Fergie was rockin’ tight jeans and a pouty face while leaving her man.  That’s right, Fergie, leave that asshole and find a better man.  I’m single.  Just saying.  No?  That’s cool.

Me jammin' and smokin' between missions with a shaved head.

            Those videos created a memory of my brothers just relaxing in a world of madness and a time where we weren’t screaming obscenities at each other and the higher ups left us alone.  It was peace during war.  It’s a great memory.  Memories like this one help all of us deal with the bad ones.  I always urge veterans to think like this, because I’ve seen too many good men be swallowed by grief.  We’re lucky to be alive… now live!

            After getting out of the military I had a long wait before I could start contracting overseas so I picked up two local jobs to pass time and pay the bills.  I started serving tables at a neighborhood bar, Ramparts, and drove for a catering company delivering food all over DC.  I would be cruising thru South East at 5 am in a really bad part of town and stop at a red light when I saw my surroundings and realized a decision had to be made.  There were gang members plotting some kind of early morning shenanigans and mean mugging me while completely stopped.  What do you do in that situation?

            I’ll tell ya what to do.  You act crazier than them to secur your life for another day.  Now how do you act crazy?  You crank the radio and sing as loud as you can while smiling and staring right back with the windows down.  What song happened to be playing on that fateful morning?

“Hey! Hey! You! YOU! I wanna be your girlfriend!” and the crowd dispersed.

            Whenever I hear those three songs come on the radio you can bet everything on me turning it up as loud as I possibly can and smiling for the duration.  I don't care who's watching and I obviously have no shame.