This morning I was performing my duties as a public affairs soldier when I had one of those moments where something burns itself into your retina forever.
Amid the hustle and bustle of a Baghdad day beginning, I saw a soldier sitting alone against a wall, reading. In the midst of managed chaos next to a checkpoint with dozens of people moving in different directions while guards check IDs and people argue about why they should have access to a particular place was this solitary figure tranquilly reading a book. I wish my camera had been with me, but even if I had it, I wouldn’t have been allowed to publish the photo due to the location.
I have to draw a word picture instead. Imagine yourself in a place where everything is fortified and everyone is constantly on guard. You hear explosions close or far several times a day. Tempers flare easily. Everything moves more slowly than it should because there are murderers lurking about looking for opportunities to practice their craft. Everyone must be checked and approved to proceed everywhere they go. Convoys of heavily armed wary soldiers from different nations speaking different languages roll in and out without warning, scanning everything. Communication is fragile at best. There are usually at least four to five different languages in play. The background noise is constant. Rumbling vehicles. People shouting at each other. Women crying. Men loudly arguing. Laughter now and then, sometimes strained. The scrape of metal barriers being dragged out of the way and then back into place. Warning shots being fired from all around intersperse these other noises. They are the punctuation marks of life in Baghdad.
There against the wall is an American soldier reading his book. I ask him what he is reading. He tells me. I thank him, and make a mental note to read the book too. But the scene is still surreal, and would be even if I had been to war before.