Chapter+29

Captain Craig T. Olsen has seen it all.

He has seen what war brings, with its roller-coaster of emotions. From the highpoint of ecstacy that fuels pride when grateful Iraquis treat he his troops as heroes, to the low point of frustration and confusion when those same people heckle him shortly after their show of gratitude. He has seem war bring people together, and has also seen war tear people apart, sometimes violently amidst the flames of a seven-year old suicide bomber. Anything else that you can think of, he's probably seen it. Or in some way seen it, at least.

Captain Craig T. Olsen hails from Arizona. As a little boy, he did what all little boys do, and that was play make-believe and pretend he was a soldier, not knowing that he would later enroll in West Point and become and Army Ranger. After a good run serving, Olsen decided to leave the Army in 1997 to attend Arizona State and get what his Army buddies mockingly called an "edumacation." Apparently, it seems that gaining two master's degrees draws people into hiring someone, because Olsen was hounded by potential employers during most of 1998. Some gave him bad offers (twelve hours work and only one ten-minute break), but most gave him good offers. Then there were extremely lucrative offers, with one company wanting to employ him as an accountant, guaranteeing $200,000 salary, a free Mercedez SL-300 and the option of working at home. It was this offer that Olsen accepted, and it was at the same job not so long after that he met his wife, Jennifer Love Longoria.

Two years later, the couple was happily married with a child on the way. And Olsen succumbed to family life. By that, I mean he gluttonized. And by that, I mean he got immensly fat. This drastic gain of weight could only be explained by having a simple desk job, which did not allow for much physical activity. But other than that, former captain Craig T. Olsen was the happiest he had been in his life.

Though the happiness continued into the new millenium, the terrorist attacks of September 11 would rekindle a fire in Olsen's heart. He considered reenlisting into the army, but could not bring himself to telling his wife that he wanted to go, which if he did, would mean he would not be able to spend time with her and their son, Optimus, who was now six months old. On New Year's Eve, Craig decided that he would tell her. Two minutes to midnight, he approached Jennifer.

"Jennifer, honey?" he said. "Hm?" "Uh, I'm considering reenlisting into the army." Silence ensued between the two. "Really?" Jennifer said after what seemed an eternity to Craig. "Yeah. I know that I'm cutting my time with you and Optimus, but I feel that this is something I have to do," "Are you sure?" Craig looked for some kind of indicator, if she was leaning towards approval or leaning towards all-out yelling, but he could not read how she really felt. "Yes, I'm sure," he said. "OK. Just as long as you feel it's right." She looked deep into his eyes and hugged him. The clock struck midnight.

For the next three months after telling Jennifer, Craig underwent a rigorous training program to get himself back into top shape for the Army. His training consisted of waking up at 5 A.M, running nonstop for ninety minutes before returning home to greet his wife before she left work. He would lift weights for another ninety minutes or until Optimus woke up. He would go on another run in the afternoon, often taking Optimus with him and bringing him to the nearby park. Along the way, he would buy bread so the both of them could feed the ducks lounging at the park's pond. This was his favorite time of the day, watching his son try to communicate to the ducks with a mixture of quacks and baby language. After their supply of bread was exhausted, Craig would go home and see his wife preparing dinner. They would have dinner, then do whatever they would do before turning in for the night.

At the end of the three months, Craig officially reenlisted in the Army. He became an intelligence officer for the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, which would soon lead him to Iraq. When he arrived in Iraq, he expected much more than conducting assaults on insurgent-supportive cities from an armored vehicle, but he did what he could. He also helped local Iraqis with the little things involving their town.

One day, after a successful assault on Fallujah, Craig was congragulating the assault team when he met one of the most interesting characters there, Stan Bowey. Stan was a rowdy, Irish-influenced tank driver who loved drinking due to his Irish blood, even when he happened to be blowing up a building. He had a taste for Guiness Draft and when he was feeling particularly bold, he would randomly yell out "BRILLIANT!" no matter what the situation was.

Despite this, Craig and Stan got along very well and shared many good times. Often, their times together involved Stan asking Craig, "Hay there man, d'yew know what me favorite type'o licorice is?" with Craig, always fighting back the urge to laugh, replying, "It's liquor, not licorice." "Agh, though' it'was somethin' like tha'...BRILLIANT!" Stan would point at some invisible figure in the sky before passing out.

Then things began to change dramatically. Because of the comraderie between Craig and Stan, communication on the field became much easier. So much so that Craig was recommended to operate heavy artillery, which meant he got to blow up stuff alongside Stan. His missions ranged from coordinating assaults to simple reconnaissance missions via tank, which Craig found pointless because stealth by large metal tank was a hard thing to do. This became a huge subject of laughter between he and Stan. It was during one of these very reconnaissance missions that something unthinkable occurred. The two were on a recon mission on foot with eighteen other soldiers in Falluja when a young boy emerged from one of the nearby buildings. He looked deathly skinny, pale and had an unnaturally large torso underneath the tattered jacket he wore. The boy began walking toward the soldiers, stopping only a few feet from the group. Craig noticed the unnaturally large torso, only to realize that it was a bomb.

"Son of a bitch, EVERYONE MOVE!" but just as Craig screamed the last word, an explosion engulfed everyone and everything within thirty feet. Craig was just outside the blast radius but was thrown back fifteen feet and into the same building that the boy came out of. His abdomen was in searing pain, but Craig shrugged it off and immediately scanned the vicinity for any survivors or innocent people caught in the blast. He found nothing.

Desperately, Craig continued his search. After a few minutes of rushed panic, he found Stan underneath a pile of rubble. Craig rushed to pull Stan out of the rubble.

"Agh...hiya man," Stan said. "Oh God, are you OK?" "Ye're damn straight a'm OK! Ah feel invincible! Ah just got the kablooey blown outta meself and a'm still breathing!"

Craig scanned Stan's face for a moment. Other than a small cut and some dirt, Craig could not find anything immediately wrong with him. It was when he looked at his legs that he realized something very wrong had happened. They were missing.

"Holy crap dude, you do realize you have no legs right!?" Craig asked Stan. "Huh, would'ya look at tha'...no wonder me brain hurts..." Those were his last words before losing consciousness.

Craig immediately began calling for help, but no answer came. He went back on forth, trying to keep Stan conscious and radioing for help, but both attempts were not reaping any rewards. His stomach was still in pain and within ten minutes, Stan was dead and no help had arrived still. Craig yelled in frustration and lowered his head. He looked at the major source of his pain, only to find out that something had entered it. He did realize that a rock had been launched into his stomach. "Dammit..." was the last thing he said, and his family was the last thing he thought of before losing consciousness.

When Craig regained consciousness, he found himself inside a makeshift hospital. He was blinded by a flourescent light hanging over him and almost mistook it as the Light itself. His doctors told him that he had been out for three days. He found out that the rock had not hit anything vital and that it had been removed, but he would be in a bit of pain for a few weeks. "Bah, nothing some morphine or Vicodin can't numb," Craig told his doctors. "Now tell me, what happened to everyone that was attacked?" The doctors did not respond to his question.

"Come on, tell me what happened," he continued inquiring. "Well son, your group was attacked by a suicide bomber," the doctor began. "Yeah, like I couldn't tell from the little kid approaching me with a bomb vest on. What happened to everyone else?" Silence still. "WELL?" Finally, someone spoke. "You're the only survivor." "I see," Craig said.

Craig spent the next two weeks recuperating from his wounds. When he was discharged from the hospital, he was given the option to leave and spend time with his family. He refused. When asked, he responded simply, "Because I have to do what's right."

Information obtained from: AZCentral.com Actual newspaper: The Arizona Republic Columnist: E.J. Montini Article title: Soldier offers some perspective on the war in Iraq Link to article: http://www.azcentral.com/news/columns/articles/0610montini0610.html

Essay written by: Ted Relato, the hippie-like one with non-hippie principles.