Aug 30
by Rod Merkley
As a Soldier and a veteran I find myself drawn to the historic sights of the wars of the past. To me, it is important that we honor, remember, and respect the warriors that came before us and through these visits I have been motivated to do a little bit more with my life. One such visit was to the WWII cemeteries in Luxembourg.
by William Adler
(2004 Deployment to Iraq)
The familiar, garments
of our separation.
This ritual repeated-
Pain is wrapped
in our comfortable moments.
The moments we share surface
in separation
Revisit our corrupted ideas
of legacy and meaning.
Deeply held
black-clad dreams
haunt our future again
Our separateness, is the real currency,
and the mark of history on our hearts.
We will put on the garments
of our separation.
Familiar and loathed.
There in our parting
A hope
A renewal of joy
When we will be together
Again.
I’m minutes- closer than I was.
This moment gone by- closer still.
William Adler is originally from Marshfield, Massachusetts. He chose a career of soldiering after college graduation but someday hopes to return to the Northeast to teach. He currently serves on active duty in Fort Irwin, California. He has served in Bosnia, Kosovo, Iraq, and most recently, Afghanistan.
by Jason McDowell
In U.S. Army Basic Training, Sundays are generally the best days of the week. There’s usually minimal training. There’s actually some downtime, which can be used for writing letters or napping. Assuming nobody had screwed up in the last day or two, recruits are allowed to use the pay phones in the afternoon. But on Sunday mornings, the enlistees are faced with a choice. They can go to church, or they can stay at the barracks and clean.
by Liam Corley
i
Uncertain whether we expire
lolling in a bucket seat,
single-file on a path, or upright
in a briefing room
as walls roll back like curtains
furling on a smoking stage, we undertake
each duty in a brother’s place,
ill-equipped to sort civilians from the actors
trying merely to survive.
ii
Black sap crusts to a mirror
in a bowl of stars gathered
on a child’s death-day, a weary
sorting through of scrap to start
the house anew.
iii
Causeless in their wire coils,
surveyors push devices into lines
strung below a plank where feet will fall
decisive as a trigger squeeze before
the earth erupts.
iv
The sleepless know the soul’s jihad, fought within
or out as times demand, approaching death
as murder or just consequence,
solid only to the bones
we mend, break, love.
Liam Corley is an OEF veteran. He teaches American literature at California State Polytechnic University in Pomona. His poetry is influenced by the authors he teaches as much as by his time in Afghanistan.
Aug 3
by Nathan Hruska
I think about my generation a lot.
As my old classmates were protesting rising
Tuition costs and sipping their lattes and espressos
I was fighting in Fallujah, twice.
I helo’d to combat zones, walked long
patrols in oppressive heat, took fire, moved to
and through contact, and my boot soles
are still stained in a dark crimson.
My brothers and I signed up for country,
And asked what we could do.
Only 2 % of my generation swore in,
we damn few, who
put our asses on the line, watched
our brothers bleed out in front of us, watched
children die by the hands of the enemy
and were blamed for it, pissed
ourselves out of fear for our lives, or
the fear for our brothers’ lives.
No, my countrymen would rather
regurgitate their professor rhetoric,
upgrade to the newest smartphone,
complain to their overpaid therapist,
blog about their first world problems,
while my friends are dead, or still dying.
How can I love my flag so dearly
and hate my country so deeply?
Nathan Allen Hruska enlisted in the Marine Corps in 2003 and served with 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion. Nathan has done two combat tours in Fallujah, Iraq, serving as Alpha Co., 2nd Platoon, Team 2’s radio operator and martial arts instructor. He now is serving with the 169th ASOS as a TACP operator. He lives in Wisconsin with his lovely wife, Andrea and his dog, Wilson.
O-Dark-Thirty