Sorry I keep doing this. Been working insane hours. Daniel asked when I would be home from work yesterday; I told him after the war. I was partially serious. Sigh. Turned out to be just after 8 which wouldn't be all that bad except that's pretty much what its been for FOREVER as long as you don't count 1:00 am last week. Ugh! Tomorrow I need to pack a change of clothes - comfy clothes - because dashing out for a dinner break and buying a new set of clothing because I know I'm staying until midnight is getting expensive. lol
I guess I shouldn't complain -- no one is trying to blow me up. Life could be more difficult.
For the first time, on Easter Sunday, I had a good long cry over what is happening to our guys in Afghanistan. We lost 6 guys Easter Sunday. I've felt sad before over losing soldiers but this was definitely different. It was EXACTLY what the Taliban had hoped to achieve. Bloody Taliban wanted to shake us to the bone and they did. They aren't nice guys to put it mildly. I have nastier descriptions of them but I spent the day drafting different ways to say "bad guy" and my brain is fried.
Easter Sunday Canadians were busy commemorating not only Easter, but also the 90th anniversary of Vimy Ridge. They knew what they were doing when they planned that attack. They succeeded in rocking a nation. But, Afghanistan isn't Iraq; its a VERY different situation and I do believe we belong there. Still it is hard. I've written statements for the Minister to give after a death. I've drafted countless justifications as we struggle to explain what we are doing so far away and why our guys are dying for people who for the most part have never heard of Canada. When you do stuff like that day in and day out you have to do a pretty thorough personal inventory. I don't know how I would do my job if I didn't believe that what we were committed to was right. No matter its an emotionally difficult job to do but... no one is trying to blow me up.
Hot August Nights
5 years ago
1 comment:
Thank you for this candid account. It provides a small porthole into the process. It must be so difficult to become so emotionally involved, and yet try to get on with normal life afterwards.
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