NATO says kills 100 fighters in huge Afghan battle
NewsDaily (2009-10-26) -- NATO forces said Tuesday they had killed more that 100 fighters in a huge weekend battle in eastern Afghanistan in which eight Americans died, the deadliest firefight for U.S. troops in more than a year.
The picture with this article is of my friend Brad, a Marine with the 8th Marines Regiment. I've been very concerned about him and haven't heard from him since he called in August. It's a relief to know he is doing okay.
What I love about this picture is that I can tell from the look on his face that he is loving life. THIS is the shit he has been dying to do for years; he has missed one deployment after another and has been waiting for his chance to use his skills. He looks like he is in his element and for that reason alone, the picture makes me happy.
Brad is one of my closest friends. We've been through a lot together, including the break up of both our marriages and the death of his son. We've held each other up through some of the worst times imaginable and what always amazes me about Brad is that he never fails to make me laugh. There is always a laugh in him somewhere, no matter how sick or at whose expense, it is still good-natured humor and even on his worst day, Brad would rather laugh than cry. The only time I've ever seen him without words or a smile was after his son's death.
He is a unique individual full of life and positive energy. Like me, he overthinks everything to DEATH, but I love that about him. Sometimes it's amusing to watch him spin his wheels only because you can see how much he wishes he could stop; somedays no matter what I say to help pull him out of his own quicksand, nothing actually helps him. He is the kind of person that has to learn life's lessons by running his head into a brick wall; he heeds no one's warnings.
When I saw this picture on Yahoo of Brad, I felt nauseous. Immediately, I became terrified that the picture was precluding a story about his death or injury and I was too afraid to read further. All I could think was how my world would go dim without him.
Here is a blog I wrote about him back in April, right before he left:
"The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!"
Eleanor Roosevelt, First Lady of the United States, 1945
He and I have loved each other and dragged this relationship through shit, through a LOT of shit in fact. Now, as he readies himself to deploy to Afghanistan, I have stood strong against what I know is an onslaught of emotion for him. He talks shit one minute, the next he's crying. His moods are all over the place, and I understand. I know he is teetering. Everything in his life has been teetering, watching his marriage fall apart, his career misfire, personal tragedy and pain. I've watched so much of it unravel. Now it all comes to rest on his shoulders as he tries to find a way to tie it in a knot before he goes away.
Make no mistake about it, as he leaves, he will tear one giant hole right through me on his way out. He's a Marine. He doesn't do anything in a small way. He needs so much from me that I almost don't know if I can do it. But I do it. I do it because I love him, because I know this is not a normal time in his life, because I can't possibly heap one more thing on him. And I let him tear through me, I let his emotions become my own, I let him run me down with his confusion, I let him hurt me by bringing him into me one last time, the intimacy almost too close to bear.
I make an allowance for his bad behavior because he is a Marine about to deploy, because I know he's not himself. Yet he has never been more himself for he IS a Marine through and through and this is who he is, in his natural habitat. Everything I love about him is also everything I hate.
Eleanor Roosevelt, First Lady of the United States, 1945
He and I have loved each other and dragged this relationship through shit, through a LOT of shit in fact. Now, as he readies himself to deploy to Afghanistan, I have stood strong against what I know is an onslaught of emotion for him. He talks shit one minute, the next he's crying. His moods are all over the place, and I understand. I know he is teetering. Everything in his life has been teetering, watching his marriage fall apart, his career misfire, personal tragedy and pain. I've watched so much of it unravel. Now it all comes to rest on his shoulders as he tries to find a way to tie it in a knot before he goes away.
Make no mistake about it, as he leaves, he will tear one giant hole right through me on his way out. He's a Marine. He doesn't do anything in a small way. He needs so much from me that I almost don't know if I can do it. But I do it. I do it because I love him, because I know this is not a normal time in his life, because I can't possibly heap one more thing on him. And I let him tear through me, I let his emotions become my own, I let him run me down with his confusion, I let him hurt me by bringing him into me one last time, the intimacy almost too close to bear.
I make an allowance for his bad behavior because he is a Marine about to deploy, because I know he's not himself. Yet he has never been more himself for he IS a Marine through and through and this is who he is, in his natural habitat. Everything I love about him is also everything I hate.
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