Nothing, absolutely nothing, has the power to move the heart and mind like the written word in the hands of someone who knows and has experienced Something. The feeling I had from getting letters from a neighborhood boy stationed in Cam Ranh Bay surfaced for me today. Exquisite writing, Joe. Thank you.
Warning. This takes trust and courage to read or to hear. My mind was alert as if in danger with the image and description. The visceral responses tachycardia, nausea, head throbbing continued even while using deep breathing. Feeling hearing nothing until later alone in the shower. A nano second trauma humbles and informs me of the miracle of participants ever recovering from such horror.
Having never been in combat or having a close call with death (except when I was a medical intern who came close with untreated sepsis because I was thought to be faking), it was an experience just reading this. I would suppose to be in the military one has to compartmentalize a great deal or go completely berserk. I think I understand the fear of death or at least severe, permanent injury. The joy part, well, in cheating the Grim Reaper, maybe there is cause for celebration. This would certainly be a life-changing event. After that, it would seem that none of the trivial stuff would count anymore. That protective shell, that wall is there for good reasons, but it’s not necessarily good for us. I think I have a pretty good one, but I peer though the cracks sometimes. Am I warm? Not yet.
Joe, this was a great piece. I know more about a bullet than I care to now—and now I am completely certain that I don’t like them. I am glad you survived to tell this story and so many others!
The question is not whether the fire has hurt you. Because we know it has and it always will.
The question is, have you finally discovered what it is to be warm? - That part I am still learning, discovering and trying. Sometimes failing. Always learning. Getting better everyday.
Wow, Joe. This is possibly the most beautifully terrifying thing I've ever read.
Not quite sure how to process it yet. But thank you.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, has the power to move the heart and mind like the written word in the hands of someone who knows and has experienced Something. The feeling I had from getting letters from a neighborhood boy stationed in Cam Ranh Bay surfaced for me today. Exquisite writing, Joe. Thank you.
Warning. This takes trust and courage to read or to hear. My mind was alert as if in danger with the image and description. The visceral responses tachycardia, nausea, head throbbing continued even while using deep breathing. Feeling hearing nothing until later alone in the shower. A nano second trauma humbles and informs me of the miracle of participants ever recovering from such horror.
Having never been in combat or having a close call with death (except when I was a medical intern who came close with untreated sepsis because I was thought to be faking), it was an experience just reading this. I would suppose to be in the military one has to compartmentalize a great deal or go completely berserk. I think I understand the fear of death or at least severe, permanent injury. The joy part, well, in cheating the Grim Reaper, maybe there is cause for celebration. This would certainly be a life-changing event. After that, it would seem that none of the trivial stuff would count anymore. That protective shell, that wall is there for good reasons, but it’s not necessarily good for us. I think I have a pretty good one, but I peer though the cracks sometimes. Am I warm? Not yet.
Joe, this was a great piece. I know more about a bullet than I care to now—and now I am completely certain that I don’t like them. I am glad you survived to tell this story and so many others!
How very, very sad.
Jesus!
The question is not whether the fire has hurt you. Because we know it has and it always will.
The question is, have you finally discovered what it is to be warm? - That part I am still learning, discovering and trying. Sometimes failing. Always learning. Getting better everyday.