"Beginnings"
By Tamim Fares
When I was in Basic, there were 2 Clarks in my platoon. We called them Black Clark and White Clark--for obvious reasons. Both were great dudes and I regret that I lost contact with them after the cycle ended. But that’s part and parcel of military life. It's easy to make friendships and equally hard to maintain them.
We’d just landed in Iraq and I remember a fool’s bravado swelling in my chest as I walked around the FOB for the first time, exploring my surroundings and laughing at the well-fed, quaint looking POGs. We were destined for a small COP on the front line, to go do "man shit," and I felt disdain toward them that would later manifest as intense jealousy for the comforts they enjoyed.
I hadn’t been exposed to the reality of combat yet and thought it was pretty rad that I could hear distant gunshots and explosions. I was excited. Ready to meet the challenge and sure in the knowledge that I was the baddest motherfucker this side of the Tigris.
I was walking out of the PX, arms heavy with energy drinks and smokes, when my illusion of invincibility was shattered wholesale.
“Fares?” someone behind me asked.
I turned and came face to face with White Clark. Only, he didn’t look the same. The kid I’d known had an Olympic wrestler’s build, was quick to laugh and always smiling.
This person was gaunt, with bags under restless eyes. He couldn't stand still and was always moving, possessed by some nervous energy while also looking utterly exhausted at the same time.
Clark was with 3rd ID and had been part of a clearance operation that hit one of the first house borne IEDs recorded in the war. He didn't give up many details, but he didn't have to. It was clear that the casualties had been numerous.
Seeing Clark like that I couldn’t help but worry about what my future held. My arrogant pride vanished, replaced by a fear that gnawed at my insides while he ardently passed along knowledge which I had no frame of reference to understand.
After a while we parted ways with a hug. He was headed home, while I was bound for a fight I was no longer so gung-ho for.
It was the last time I saw him.
Tamim Fares is a storyteller and Army veteran chronicling the stories of the Iraq War during the Surge. You can follow him here.
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