The Fallen...

Hey All,

It has been a long time since I have posted. I guess I didn't really feel I had a lot to talk about. Actually, I think more realistically I have too much to talk about and I have not wanted to do a disservice to things that are important to me.

Bagram Airfield (BAF) is a big, loud, dusty, windy place. I work night shift. Basically I wake up, read my scriptures, shower, type off some type of deal to Ruth, go to work for 12 hours, come home, call home, workout at the gym, and try to sleep. Every five to six days I get a night off. Sundays I have Church. The mission I have is generally not overly challenging or fulfilling but it is necessary and I occasionally manage to do something that could potentially have an impact (take that to mean what you will).

Now for the meaning of the post title.

BAF is the last stop for all of the fallen sailors, soldiers, airmen, and marines killed in Afghanistan, before they start the long journey home to the loved ones they have left behind. Occasionally (far to often it seems) we have what is called a "Fallen Comrade Ceremony." Basically, what happens is everybody who is available lines up on Disney Road (the main road running through the base) and comes to attention and salutes the coffins as they pass down Disney from Mortuary Affairs to the flight line. The opportunity to honor my fallen comrades is probably the greatest privilege I will ever have in the military. My mission is such that I often feel detached from the fight. I don't even really feel like I am in Afghanistan. I could just as easily be at Dugway Proving Ground. Seeing the flag-draped coffins pass on the back of a HMMWV (Humvee) reminds me why I am here and why my mission is important. It makes me feel blessed to know that my small sacrifices, the things asked of me, will likely ensure that fewer of my fellow service-members take that last-long trip.