“Camp Buehring Kuwait.
While I was returning from my mid tour leave, I was assigned to a temporary barracks in Kuwait awaiting transport back into the shit. The temporary billeting authority tried to assign us in billets with other members of our units. The barracks were nothing more than an insulated tent with about 8 sets of bunk beds and an air conditioner. Better than nothing in the Kuwaiti heat, I guess.

While awaiting transport we did the usual things soldiers do, play spades, smoke cigarettes, swap war stories etc. My unit had been deployed for 6 months at this point and had seen some significant action. A portion of the 3/509th infantry had gone to support operations south of Fallujah, where they had seen some of the worst fighting our unit had been exposed to. The men from this unit were visibly affected by it and loathing the idea of returning to combat.

One night before I was due to return to my unit I awoke to sobbing in the dark. One of the soldiers in a bunk near me was crying himself to sleep. I lied there contemplating if I should offer my comrade comfort, but honestly, I had no comfort to offer. Tomorrow he, just as I would be returning to a world of death, destruction and chaos. How could you not be upset about that?

“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back” I could hear him whispering into his pillow.

“I don’t want to go back either.” I thought to myself. There was really no rationalizing it at the time. Here we were, across the world fighting a war for people who mostly did not want us there. For what? Oil? Glory? Prestige? I just wanted to return home to my new wife and forget about this sand box.”
– Sgt. Scott Wright
425th BSTB, attached 1/40th Cavalry Squadron 4th Brigade 25th Infantry Division. March, 2007
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