Constellations

When we first arrived here at Camp Taqaddum back in July we flew in during the night. After sitting on a somewhat ratty bus in the hot summer night with our gear piled all over the place, we made the half hour trip to our part of the Forward Operating Base (FOB). After unloading my gear and using one of the latrines, I decide to go by a wall and lie on the ground so as I could face the stars. The Milky Way was clear that night and even though I was dog tired I was in awe of the beauty of the sky.

Since that time, the sky has been more present here. The reason partly is that we are outside more often. The sunsets are often amazing and beautiful. Because most evenings have been clear, it has been easier to follow the progress of the moon. During an evening in early October I saw the very faintest sliver of a moon. I later pointed out in a briefing on the celebration of Ramadan, that when this sliver becomes evident that is when Muslims know to mark the beginning of the holy month.

The presence and activity of the sky inspired me to order a couple books on constellations and simple astronomy. The calls for Mortuary Affairs often come in the middle of the night. One evening as I stood outside under the stark and beautiful night sky waiting for SPC Hargrave I spent the time observing the Milky Way, a prominent red Mars and a clear bright Venus. Hargrave swung by with the humvee and we went on to the somber work we had to do. Recently, I have had as many as seven flag draped transfer cases resting in front of me. This particular evening there was only one. Since I now a veteran of these ramp ceremonies, I have less performance anxiety and am able to be more observant as I read the psalms and prayers. For some reason I became more aware of the field of blue and the stars in the flag. At this moment these for me were not our states, but reflective of the cosmos and the soldiers I had prayed over. As I match up names with the faces that appear on the news tributes, I realize that I will never look at an American flag the same again.

My father’s village in Greece had a cemetery in which two teenagers who had drowned were buried during a summer I was there. The Greeks often place portraits on the grave marker. I think it is so that the image of the loved one won’t fade as quickly. The pictures of the young who die have a mysterious quality to them. I search their faces for any hint of their ill fate. There is none. I often do not know who the soldiers are, but when I see their picture, I feel sadness and love for them. The mystery is this: I don’t know what kind of persons they were, if they had something more to live for than being a soldier, if they were a patriot or not, if their dying in this war really means what it is supposed to mean. I mourn the loss of their future. I love them for being mortal and made beautiful by immortality—I prayerfully see them entering the celestial sphere and being in a place where fear, death, tears and sighing are no more.

I have come to know the Marines who run the MA operation. Their deployments are only eight months, so I will come to know three different teams and their chaplains. No one can be assigned to this work nor compelled to remain. One must volunteer for this work. They remain separate from other units and are often treated as bearers of “bad luck” should another Marine or soldier come into contact with one. So, they keep a rather closed community. They work hard and their chaplain often has sessions with them discussing what they have dealt with. The purpose of this is to help them to learn a level of detachment. This way they don’t let their emotions get out of hand should they find a wallet with children’s pictures in them or a wedding ring or some other item that might have emotional significance.