Brothers in Arms
I will admit that I tend to display the character flaw of appearing to have a lack of emotions. It comes from the work...I've explained that before. My Mom on the other hand...has no problem sharing how she feels. (So I clearly don't get it from her.)
In this case I can understand, though. I am feeling a little strange about the current situation. I guess I should explain. My mom is having a bit of a difficult time right now because not only is her first born in Baghdad...so is her baby. That's right...my brother and I are both out here at the same time.
But...doesn't that mean that Tom Hanks has to come out there and rescue one of you?
NO!!! That little myth...while based in reality...is not as prevalent as one would believe. First of all, the Army has better things to do than track down everyone that has a brother and ensure that only one of them is deplpyed at a time. Second, that rule was established so that the bloodline...or family name can continue. I now have a son...so 'problem solved.'
ANYWAY!!!!! It is still strange to see my brother in the same place that they continually have firefights and explosions. See...I have always been kind of like his protector. Now, don't get me wrong...we had some knock down, drag out fights. However...I was the only one allowed to beat the crap out of him.
Little brothers have this way of driving you insane...and mine was no exception. Actually, I think he wrote a whole chapter in the "Little Brother's guide to annoying EVERYONE!" (A tome to which I am not privy...being the OLDER brother.)
There were times when I thought we might actually kill one another. He was good at getting under my skin and I was bad at controlling my temper. (A trait I am getting much better at now that I have kids...I think.) As my parents can attest...My brother and I would get so bad that there were several occasions of property damage.
There were several specific moments I can remember...When he threw a matchbox car at my head...and I caught it mid air and threw it right back, hitting him in the forehead. Or the time when I was chasing him through the house and he decided a good way to get me to stop would be with a metal Louisville slugger across the knees. I will never forget the time he locked me out of the house and I got so mad I actually kicked in the front door. While I was thoroughly impressed with myself, my parents didn't find it nearly as 'cool' as I did.
He was an artist when it came to pissing me off and I thought I would literally be happier if he went away sometimes. But then, I would prove myself wrong.
I distinctly remember one time when I was in the house, and my brother came running in. He was crying, and his eye was swollen shut. I asked what happened, and he explained that he was playing football with one of our good friends from the neighborhood...and another kid that we didn't know quite as well, came and started a fight. My brother did alright, he blocked all of the kid's punches with his face.
I was outraged! No one beats my brother like that, except me. Without another word, I took off and ran up to our friend's house. My dad, apparently concerned about the welfare of the young man who had practiced my favorite pass time on my brother's face took off after me. The neighbors said they knew something was wrong when they saw my dad actually run...I agree...no one wants to see that.
Needless to say, (so why say it, right) I made it clear that the only person that could pound on my baby brother was me. I went to the doctor and had a cast put on my hand the next day...the doctor called it a boxer's fracture.
So, this carried on until...well, it is still carrying on to this day. My brother joined me in Baghdad last week. He is 'on assignment' and that sent him out here. His job, while very cool, does send him to some interesting places. He is the special projects producer and Anchor for the Pentagon Channel...and he is a Soldier.
One of the things that my room mate noticed right away is that we still...in our third decade on this planet...pick on each other like eight and six year olds. I think it was the fifth time my brother pulled hair out of my arm and asked "odd or even?" and I got it wrong (so he did it again) that my room mate said "It must have been interesting in your house growing up." It was.
But what is interesting now is that nothing has changed. I still see him as that kid that I have to protect. Granted, his is not a kid anymore and he has me by a few pounds (his a big boy!) but I still feel that need to protect my baby brother.
SO...when his job calls for him to go to places like Afghanistan and Iraq, I get a bit concerned. The bullies at this stage in our lives tend to hit harder...or shoot you...whatever. And now...there is nothing I can do about it. YES, he is a Soldier...YES, he has been trained in all manner of protecting himself...and yes he is all grown up now. But he is still my little brother.
It started with me being irritated that even though I joined the Infantry...THE job that goes to the front lines and sees the 'action,' my brother...The JOURNALIST...has been to every theater of operation since Bosnia. (This is my first deployment....and I am no longer in the Infantry...go fig.)
I am very proud of him...he has earned quite a name for himself in his field. He has been chosen by name to cover stories on the President (which one is not important...but he did not have relations with him.) He is now the face of the ARMY for the Pentagon channel, and is one of the best in his field. And...he is still my little brother.
He was sent over here to cover and produce a special report. It is a short visit, only a couple of weeks...but it started in Afghanistan, and then sent him here. When he does his job, he actually goes out and lives the life of those he is reporting about. Recently...that would have been one of the Units here in Baghdad. He patrolled...he kicked in doors...he rode the convoys.
And I sat here in the Palace...not able to protect him from the hell that is downtown Baghdad.
I love him...that should be evident. And for all our faults and differences...he IS my brother. I may not agree with everything he does or some of the decisions he makes...but that doesn't mean that I don't want to protect him.
There are still things that he does that irritate the hell out of me...and we still have the knock down drag out fights...but usually they are over the phone. And for all that, while he is out here...I have not slept well. I know that he is a man and I am proud of him. I just have this sense of duty.
The thing now is that there is a new bond...an experience shared that most people can't understand. It has gone beyond the bounds of brotherly ties and sibling rivalry. I have bonded with my fellow soldiers out here. That is a bond that will last forever. He and I are brothers and soldiers out here together...an experience that has cemented something between us.
I can't pinpoint it...I'm not sure what exactly it is. But I know that even though there are things about him that I want to change that never will...and I'm sure he feels the same...there is a new bond.
We have truly crossed a line and given new meaning to the term Brothers in Arms.
I love you, Bub.
SFC NEWMAN
OUT
In this case I can understand, though. I am feeling a little strange about the current situation. I guess I should explain. My mom is having a bit of a difficult time right now because not only is her first born in Baghdad...so is her baby. That's right...my brother and I are both out here at the same time.
But...doesn't that mean that Tom Hanks has to come out there and rescue one of you?
NO!!! That little myth...while based in reality...is not as prevalent as one would believe. First of all, the Army has better things to do than track down everyone that has a brother and ensure that only one of them is deplpyed at a time. Second, that rule was established so that the bloodline...or family name can continue. I now have a son...so 'problem solved.'
ANYWAY!!!!! It is still strange to see my brother in the same place that they continually have firefights and explosions. See...I have always been kind of like his protector. Now, don't get me wrong...we had some knock down, drag out fights. However...I was the only one allowed to beat the crap out of him.
Little brothers have this way of driving you insane...and mine was no exception. Actually, I think he wrote a whole chapter in the "Little Brother's guide to annoying EVERYONE!" (A tome to which I am not privy...being the OLDER brother.)
There were times when I thought we might actually kill one another. He was good at getting under my skin and I was bad at controlling my temper. (A trait I am getting much better at now that I have kids...I think.) As my parents can attest...My brother and I would get so bad that there were several occasions of property damage.
There were several specific moments I can remember...When he threw a matchbox car at my head...and I caught it mid air and threw it right back, hitting him in the forehead. Or the time when I was chasing him through the house and he decided a good way to get me to stop would be with a metal Louisville slugger across the knees. I will never forget the time he locked me out of the house and I got so mad I actually kicked in the front door. While I was thoroughly impressed with myself, my parents didn't find it nearly as 'cool' as I did.
He was an artist when it came to pissing me off and I thought I would literally be happier if he went away sometimes. But then, I would prove myself wrong.
I distinctly remember one time when I was in the house, and my brother came running in. He was crying, and his eye was swollen shut. I asked what happened, and he explained that he was playing football with one of our good friends from the neighborhood...and another kid that we didn't know quite as well, came and started a fight. My brother did alright, he blocked all of the kid's punches with his face.
I was outraged! No one beats my brother like that, except me. Without another word, I took off and ran up to our friend's house. My dad, apparently concerned about the welfare of the young man who had practiced my favorite pass time on my brother's face took off after me. The neighbors said they knew something was wrong when they saw my dad actually run...I agree...no one wants to see that.
Needless to say, (so why say it, right) I made it clear that the only person that could pound on my baby brother was me. I went to the doctor and had a cast put on my hand the next day...the doctor called it a boxer's fracture.
So, this carried on until...well, it is still carrying on to this day. My brother joined me in Baghdad last week. He is 'on assignment' and that sent him out here. His job, while very cool, does send him to some interesting places. He is the special projects producer and Anchor for the Pentagon Channel...and he is a Soldier.
One of the things that my room mate noticed right away is that we still...in our third decade on this planet...pick on each other like eight and six year olds. I think it was the fifth time my brother pulled hair out of my arm and asked "odd or even?" and I got it wrong (so he did it again) that my room mate said "It must have been interesting in your house growing up." It was.
But what is interesting now is that nothing has changed. I still see him as that kid that I have to protect. Granted, his is not a kid anymore and he has me by a few pounds (his a big boy!) but I still feel that need to protect my baby brother.
SO...when his job calls for him to go to places like Afghanistan and Iraq, I get a bit concerned. The bullies at this stage in our lives tend to hit harder...or shoot you...whatever. And now...there is nothing I can do about it. YES, he is a Soldier...YES, he has been trained in all manner of protecting himself...and yes he is all grown up now. But he is still my little brother.
It started with me being irritated that even though I joined the Infantry...THE job that goes to the front lines and sees the 'action,' my brother...The JOURNALIST...has been to every theater of operation since Bosnia. (This is my first deployment....and I am no longer in the Infantry...go fig.)
I am very proud of him...he has earned quite a name for himself in his field. He has been chosen by name to cover stories on the President (which one is not important...but he did not have relations with him.) He is now the face of the ARMY for the Pentagon channel, and is one of the best in his field. And...he is still my little brother.
He was sent over here to cover and produce a special report. It is a short visit, only a couple of weeks...but it started in Afghanistan, and then sent him here. When he does his job, he actually goes out and lives the life of those he is reporting about. Recently...that would have been one of the Units here in Baghdad. He patrolled...he kicked in doors...he rode the convoys.
And I sat here in the Palace...not able to protect him from the hell that is downtown Baghdad.
I love him...that should be evident. And for all our faults and differences...he IS my brother. I may not agree with everything he does or some of the decisions he makes...but that doesn't mean that I don't want to protect him.
There are still things that he does that irritate the hell out of me...and we still have the knock down drag out fights...but usually they are over the phone. And for all that, while he is out here...I have not slept well. I know that he is a man and I am proud of him. I just have this sense of duty.
The thing now is that there is a new bond...an experience shared that most people can't understand. It has gone beyond the bounds of brotherly ties and sibling rivalry. I have bonded with my fellow soldiers out here. That is a bond that will last forever. He and I are brothers and soldiers out here together...an experience that has cemented something between us.
I can't pinpoint it...I'm not sure what exactly it is. But I know that even though there are things about him that I want to change that never will...and I'm sure he feels the same...there is a new bond.
We have truly crossed a line and given new meaning to the term Brothers in Arms.
I love you, Bub.
SFC NEWMAN
OUT
posted by Unknown at 6:55 PM
4 comments
