Let's Roll

Okay so I have been really REALLY proud of Jacob lately (more to come about that on a later date). But below is an essay that Jacob wrote, for college, about one of his experiences while in Iraq. After a long time of thinking about "releasing" this story, he finally agreed to let me place it here on the blog. I am amazingly proud of the service that Jacob has done for this country, and continues to do. Please read and enjoy a first hand experience to the war in Iraq.

“Lets Roll”
by Jacob Larkin

The stifling, dry heat of the afternoon was finally giving way to the cool refreshing air of evening. The dull, flat horizon turned to brilliant rays of red and yellow then slowly to a gray, dark abyss. I sat leaning against the cool hard metal, the armored side of a great beast. Like the beast was whispering, I could hear the chatting of the driver and truck commander inside. My hand rested on my one true companion, without whom I would be nothing, and without me, would be nothing but plastic and metal. My weapon made me who I am, a protector of peace, a dealer of death, a soldier. My weapon was now attached to the top of the great beast on which I sat, and soon we would sneak through the night to protect against those who would seek to destroy us. The convoy stretched ahead of and behind me like a snake lying in wait, quite and calculating. But this snake sought to bring life to others, delivering needed supplies miles and miles away. Soon I would hear the words I have heard so many times before, words that tonight would take on an entirely new meaning. A feeling of quiet resolve and anticipation came over me as I saw the chief step out of the lead gun truck at the head of the snake. Through the growing darkness I heard him yell those fated words. “Lets roll!”

We slithered and snuck through the warm, dark desert. Moving fast so as not to present ourselves as a target to the many predators lurking in the night. The wind struck at my face, my upper torso exposed outside the top of the gun truck. The mind does an odd thing after hours on the road. Hostilities begin to emerge between two thought processes. One side is driven crazy by the monotony and boredom of the flat black horizon, wanting to withdraw and become complacent. The other is ever vigilant, ever watchful, and paranoid even to the dangers and threats surrounding you. One battles the other for control of your main thought process, but you cannot give in the weakness. Too many lives, including your own, depend upon your keen awareness of your surroundings. So you watch and wait for the smallest hint of a threat, the black desert able to hide many of them.

An intense brightness slowly started to appear far in the distance, like a tiny sun breaking over the horizon. It broke the monotony of the surrounding darkness like an oasis in the middle of a desert. The light grew larger, more intense. It came to life, small movements and flickering becoming visible. As I got closer, the smell of it filled my nostrils, the smell of burnt metal, rubber, and gasoline becoming nauseating. The tortured, broken skeleton of a tanker truck lay burning in intense hellish flames. Its unnatural, eerie presence filled me with an uncertain feeling. As we approached the burning mass it seemed like the sun had zoomed to the middle of the sky and was bearing down on me. My skin burned, it felt as if the hairs on my arm would be singed off. I was forced to retreat in to the bowels of my truck, shielding myself from inferno outside. What happened here? I could easily guess what had mutated the tanker truck into a mass of burning metal. How long had the unnatural device been sitting on the road, waiting to choose its target and pounce? A crudely made explosive device, planted on the road for the sole purpose of bringing death and destruction. How many had been hurt? Or worse? My thoughts were interrupted by the crackle of the radio in my ear, the chief’s voice came jolting through the headset. “We are getting word that there is a lot of hostilities in this area, two convoys have been hit in the last thirty minutes.” A pause, then he continued, “We are pushing through, keep your eyes open and your heads down guys.”

My eyes traced the lines of the side of the road, searching for anything other than the gray darkness of my surroundings. They moved to the distant horizon, where the thin gray line was barely distinguishable from the black of the sky. They wandered to the stars dancing in the sky, so many stars I have never seen in my life. They traced their way down the truck we followed, focusing far too long on the bright red of the tail lights. They moved to the left, following the pale white lights of oncoming traffic sliding past and out of view. Something was wrong. A pair of headlights stood out like a pair of cat eyes glowing in the moonlight against a black background. The headlights were no longer on the road; they were cutting through the median heading straight for my truck. My mind suddenly became united to one purpose, one drive. My instincts rocketed me to one course of action, my pulse erupted into a rhythmic mayhem, adrenaline coursed through my veins, my muscles tensed. My thumb swiftly moved to the safety, my index finger to the trigger like the arms of an old lover. My weapon happily blazed to life. Fire and metal erupted from the barrel, the bullets piercing the night sky, flying towards their target. The oncoming car swerved and bumped through the dirt of the median, the distance between us was closing very fast now. Only a handful of rounds left my weapon, and even less hit their mark but seemed to do nothing. Then it was too late, the car was upon us. I was rocketed to the left as the driver swerved our truck to the right to avoid this oncoming predator. The general smoothness of the pavement gave way to a catastrophic chain of bumps. I was flying off my feet, and being clunked around the truck like ragdoll. Then I saw it, my heart stopped; a huge mound of dirt, merely feet in front of us. In an instant, I threw myself to the floor of the gun truck. The driver cut back to the left, but it was too late. Bumps now turned into a tornado, a whirlwind of steel. Anything that made sense in my current situation was gone. I was caught in flurry of metal, plastic, and cloth. Bullets flew around me, canisters and a backpack hit me before continuing their flight around the truck. I felt no pain. I felt no awareness. It did not occur to me at that very moment that I was rolling violently through the night desert. Then it all stopped.

Complete silence. There was no crackle of the radio, no chatting between the driver and truck commander, no loud roaring of the truck, no sound at all reached my ears. Had my worst fear come to fruition? Would my wife have to get that phone call and succumb to despair and loneliness? I could hear the phone call from the Red Cross, my wife trembling as she heard the news. My mother’s cries joined in with my wife’s, one of the most difficult calls she would have to make. I could see my comrades walking by and saluting my boots and upside down weapon with my dog tags hanging around it. The commander would give his speech about bravery, and the ultimate sacrifice for his country. Another soldier’s life unnecessarily claimed by the terrorists and insurgents, another lost.

Something was pulling on my foot, shaking it. Suddenly sound returned to my ears, feeling returned to my limbs. “Larkin!” I heard, I could not see where it came from. I could not gain my bearings, I could not tell where I was. “Are you ok?!” came the voice again. I managed to mumble some sort of answer. I tried to move but was unsuccessful; I felt very awkward. Then the pain came, first in my head pounding and rhythmic like an enormous drum then followed by my elbow; then my knee, a dull constant pain. I was finally able to figure out where I was. I was upside down, my head resting on the desert ground through the opening in the top of the gun truck. My body tangled awkwardly with the contents of the truck, a backpack curled around one of my legs and stuffed in my face. Before I had time to realize how much time had passed, I was being pulled out. There was much pain as I squeezed through the opening in the top of the truck and the ground. Much pain, but I was alive. As I slumped into the seat of another truck, the chief turned around and gave me a concerned look. The his face shifted, with the slightest smile he said “When I said ‘let’s roll’, I didn’t mean it literally.”