Day 2 - Build A Patio, Build a Friendship

Around the last week of November, myself along with several Marines in my office realized there was no place for us to relax after a hard, and often stressful, day of work. There was the morale tent which had a host of activities and computers for us to connect with the outside world. We were more interested in a small place where a group of enlisted people could get together and hang out, free from the oversight of our superiors, free from rules, free to be ourselves. The idea to build a small patio surfaced and it wasn’t long before we were hard at work. Utilizing spare pallets and slabs of wood we found laying around, we were on our way to building what would soon host the majority of our evening activities: a patio.

None of us were carpenters by trade or in career fields that required us to be good with our hands. Pulling together our resources, using anything and everything, we began the task set ahead of us. We all knew the end result would be a patio for the enlisted people in the office to migrate to afterhours. Little did we know that in building that same patio, we were building something that would mean much more in the end. We were also building bonds that would last, and grow stronger, in the coming months.

Day by day, we saw progression. Simultaneously, we saw friendships come together. People who never said more than a few words to one another during a normal duty day were conversing like old high school friends. Learning about where each person came from, what they expected to accomplish while in Iraq, their family, and the overall person that they were. Not only did we all become coworkers during those days, we became good friends as well.

Varying ages, ranks, services, genders, and ethnic backgrounds, we all came together as one. With each person came a unique story to be told, an opinion to be heard. Playful debates revolving around sports and the male competitiveness between each branch of the military. As conversations came and went, more information was divulged. Married, single, those with children…all brothers and sisters of the uniformed service, a family of our great nation.

A bond between military members is something to be cherished. When times get hard, situations become unbearable, we all need someone to go to for advice and comfort. Through the wonders of laughter, listening, and confidentiality, nothing here seemed too overwhelming. Discussions ranged in seriousness, length, and privacy. Everything from work, the stress of being away from loved ones, to how officers could be so educated yet so oblivious. No matter what we talked about, it always seemed like the right people were always there to listen, to lend a shoulder, to provide the comfort and confidence to make it through another day.

One of the Marines here was on his 5th deployment. Many of us junior enlisted, this being our first time in a combat situation, found his topics to of greatest relevance. Insight and knowledge from a true veteran, one who has seen all facets of the war, from the front lines holding a rifle to being back in the States behind a computer screen. He explained the stresses of being a single father to a young child, the rigorous demands of the military, and finding the balance between the two. Being a father myself, I listened intently on the topic at hand. My biggest concern was leaving behind my son who was just over a year old, who’s first birthday was four days prior to me leaving for Iraq. Would my son recognize me once I returned? If I happened to not return, would my son know what kind of a man I was? Would he know that I worked and fought hard for him so he could live easier as he grew to become a man?

Maintaining a family is a tough job. Those same tasks from thousands of miles away on the other side of the world can take its toll on one. Calendars were hung in every office counting down the days until the anticipated return back to loved ones. Every “X” brought us one mark closer to the things we hold closest, a day closer to the long-awaited hug or kiss or “I missed you”. Pictures got us through the days. Desktop screensavers, emails, photo-hosting websites, wallet-sized inserts that hung around the necks of many. The little time we had to ourselves was typically spent thinking of those we left behind. We were all in Iraq to complete a mission, but at the expense of a separating a family for what seemed like an eternity.

As with any social gathering, there were acceptable and unacceptable norms, topics that could and could not be discussed. Most topics of conversation were allowed…all but one: a loss. Not the loss of a prized possession or the loss in a video game football tournament. The type of loss where there is no reset button. During the time we were building the patio, four individuals were attacked while on a humanitarian mission, two of which were killed. The media covered the event a day later but the night it occurred was a night that will not soon be forgotten. One of the individuals shot that morning had previously worked in my office. He had volunteered to distribute food to a local neighborhood when he was shot several times. He survived. Two others were not so fortunate. Those great men were someone’s son, father, brother, uncle, nephew, or cousin. Someone back home had to receive a phone call, the call every mother dreads when their child is away at war. That day, four people went home, two unable to celebrate this holiday season. Broken promises to return home safely to loved ones, but promises kept to leave the world a better place than to which they came. Was it an even trade? That night, a camp mourned a loss. No hammers were swung, no nails driven, no wood cut. That night was a night dedicated to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, to those who died with honor, courage, and commitment. That week, our patio was two nails short of being complete.

As we completed our project going into the second day of December, we also completed the first phase of a lasting friendship. As with any project, it takes time, commitment, understanding, and dedication. Each of us, every Soldier, Sailor, Airman, and Marine were the nails holding together the wood of friendship. Single pieces of meaningless wood, fragile and unnoticed, were the foundation for us to build upon. Together, with every nail from every service, we turned that same wood into something meaningful. For that week during the late hours of the evening, battling the cold and the occasional sand storm, we not only built a patio, we built a friendship.