1st Lt Prifogle’s Blog

Lost

I watch Lost. I only have a TV and DVD player – no channels. I never watch TV at home, so I’m not missing anything. Here, I watch Lost and I understand. I am on a deserted island. Only there are no white sand beaches. The water in the Oasis will make you sick and die from internal bleeding. The water from the plumbing will make you sick. I use bottled water to brush my teeth. And here everyone carries a weapon and two loaded magazines. The weapons should be on condition 4 – empty chamber, bolt forward, no magazine loaded, weapon on safe. But, how quick can any of us put our weapons in condition 1 – magazine loaded, round in the chamber, bolt forward and weapon on safe. How fast can any of us flip off that safety? How many of us carry around a knife? How many of us have been trained to kill with our hands alone? That’s the difference. And this is real life. This isn’t a TV show. There is no plot. Each character’s actions and consequences aren’t carefully mapped out on a story board. The deaths aren’t precisely planned for dramatic effect. Here – anything goes. This isn’t a set – this is a combat zone.

Still, I empathize. I understand the feelings the characters go through on the show. I understand what it means to fight for every bit of hope you have. Just hope that the reoccurring dream will end. Hope that you will wake up one morning and none of this ever happened. Hope that you can make it home safely without too much damage – mental or physical.

I still do not know if I’m going to be staying 7 months or 13. Our command keeps changing their mind. Either way it’s forever out here. Every day is the same. No starting point; no ending point. The days are like the desert surrounding the base – bleak, empty, hopeless and then a military base in the middle of it. I’m restricted to an area with a 13 mile perimeter. Most of which is the flight line. Some days I like to drive along Perimeter Road just to escape the office. Just to drive. Everyone says its Groundhog’s Day, but it’s not. Groundhog’s day was seven days ago or was it eight? You can get lost in the days. Is it Monday? Saturday? Thursday? Does it even matter? Not really. It’s a day like all the others.

I watch Lost and loose myself in the fake drama. The desperation they must feel being survivors of a plane crash and being completely forgotten. By season two it’s already been over 60 days. By now their families have mourned their loss and moved on with their lives. This is how it feels. By now it’s been over a month and everyone’s accepted the fact that I’m gone. They all said goodbye to me and by now have accepted the fact that I’m no longer part of their daily life. I’m simply not there anymore. I get emails from friends often enough, but now that life feels like a dream. I know they have all accepted the fact that I’m gone. I am lost on a deserted island somewhere and I may or may not come home.

And maybe it’s me who’s accepted the fact that I’m gone. I am the one who has finally acknowledged that my fate is no longer in my own hands. It no longer matters how long I’ll be gone, because it already seems like an eternity. Then, of course, there is the fear that I won’t be coming home at all. I’m the one who has to live with this reality. I’m the one who has to look down the barrel of the gun and face my fear of death. The fear that this is all there is. I’m the one who has to try to keep the hope that one day this will all be over. I have to keep faith that one day I will be back home. The ones I left behind have their own lives. They don’t have to face the realities of war – the fear, the monotony, the fight against complacency. They have schedules to make, checkbooks to balance, kids to get to school, jobs to go to, vacations to plan.

Me, I live on a deserted island. With the other servicemen and women who have left everything behind. Trapped by sand not water. 13 miles of perimeter. On the other side of the fence – nothing. More sand. Miles of isolation. I think this is why the Earth is round because if it was flat we would see nothing but eternity. I find hope in the horizon and the setting sun. A stopping point to the day – to this.

I haven’t been forgotten by anyone but myself. I already forget what it feels like not to live in a state of constant awareness. Not to have to carry a 9mm around and a knife. I forget what it feels like to call an old friend on my way home from work just to say hello. I forget what its like to complain about the price of gas. What its like to go to the grocery store for a bottle of wine or to cook my own dinner and not eat ‘mystery meat’. It already feels like I’ve been deserted on this island for an eternity. I already forgot what its like to have hope. It’s been a month.

I’m the one who put myself on this deserted island. I have access to telephones and internet. I have memories I can visit anytime. I can write letters and mail them for free. I have written letters, just haven’t made it to the post office yet – or maybe I have I just couldn’t drop the letters off. I couldn’t commit myself to the words I put on paper. I just couldn’t leave the island.

This is my present. This is my now. This is my home. Too much of my life is spent remembering the past and trying to figure out the future. This is an exercise to force me to live today – today. Tomorrow – tomorrow. This is just a simple exercise. I have to learn how to find hope in everyday. I have to learn. Maybe John Locke is right – we all came to this island for a reason.

Maybe not. Maybe there is no reason for this island at all.

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