Entering the Wilderness: My Path in Self Isolation

It’s one thing to want to take your own life, but another to just let the job or the things you love take it for you. It takes the ownership out of the act. It is comforting to know that leaving this world because of an act you are not responsible for, or at the very least can be given away to fate. I lived this way for ten years, hoping that something would happen that would end my existence so that I could save face and not be seen as abandoning my family, my obligations, or my relationship. The evacuation of Afghanistan was my call to action, and forced my hand to finally live for myself.

29 August, 2021 — Undisclosed location in the Middle East — Sleep deprived, exhausted, and numb, I just experienced the “highlight” of my military and private security career. It was what you joined for. It was an event that would be entered into the history books and while my name won’t be written into the record for any great deeds, I was there. Had I known what I was in for, I would never wish to do it again.

I spent seventeen years spent between the Marines and as an independent contractor.   Afghanistan had been handed over to the Taliban, and I had a front row seat.  I watched and participated in the events that unfolded from the 13th of August when our local employees went on strike as the Taliban entered the city to the day that I would board the flight home for the last time.

None of us really knew what we were going to do when we arrived back stateside.  We were a mix of security and government personnel.  Some of the guys discussed going back to previous contracts they had worked years past.  Some discussed executive protection gigs that they had heard about through networks of friends and colleagues in the security world.  And some, those with the hope that one day we would retake Afghanistan, job security restored.  Those dreamers in denial thought we would be back to that country in some capacity in the next six months to a year. Denial is the first stage of grief.

For myself, I had a general idea what the future held, but my plans didn’t look past 19 October and certainly not in any capacity going back to work in a security role. The 19th was a date that I selfishly set prior to deploying.  That decision was made regardless how it affected anyone else and of when and if Kabul fell earlier than late fall, which was the intelligence based earliest date that the U.S. would actually withdraw. Due to the Taliban’s disregard for U.S. Intelligence estimates, they came early, and I stuck to my plan. I had fifty days to figure out what to do with my life and weigh my decisions: keep to the same road I was on, or change direction and search for what my heart desired.

Prior to deploying to Afghanistan, I rode from San Antonio to Pennsylvania and parked my motorcycle at my mom’s house, just two hours north of Herndon, VA. Now back stateside, trying to picture where I would ride first, I couldn’t leave until we were debriefed.  All of us recently unemployed contractors were required to participate in an after action to capture the successes, failures, and our perceptions of the recent actions.  The after action felt fruitless.  The room filled with more anger and confusion than anyone cared for. Everyone had a different perspective and thought what they experienced was truth. Those capturing our insights were receptive, but cynicism from the operators also filled the air. It was a mess of emotions. Quietly, I wondered if they did this very ritual for the Saigon withdraw in the 70s, and quietly I asked myself if we ever truly learned.

I was angry.  I added my two cents, but remember wondering if our recommendations would be filed in a report and only looked at by historians. It was probable that they would never read by those who needed to read them and only picked up to be glanced at in extremis situations. But, had I not said anything, I would have regretted it.  I just wanted to go to my moms house, pack the bike and get on the road.

“If any of you have anything to turn in, now is the time.”  They were asking us to return any sensitive equipment we might have brought home.  But we just walked out without paying much attention.

A friend approached my rental car. I rolled the window down. “Are you okay?” he asked, mentioning that I was quiet. I said I was, but knew he saw that I wasn’t. “Take care of yourself,” he said as I backed out and got on the road. I was angry, and I get quiet when I am angry. If felt good to be seen, but embarrasing that I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling. Emotions were building up.