Perspective

My expectations for the standard of living (from a physical creature comfort standpoint) here were based on past experience in the field—sleeping in a tent (if I’m lucky), sleeping on a cot (if I’m lucky), enjoying a three minute shower in an “expeditionary” shower tent every other day (if I’m lucky), eating one hot meal a day and the rest MRE’s (if I’m lucky), working in a dusty, hot (cooled to maybe 90 degrees for the sake of the computers) gloomy work place (if I’m lucky), getting maybe six hours of sleep a night (if I’m lucky)—I’m sure you get the gist…

In the week since I’ve been here, it’s been amazing how quickly my expectations and actions have conformed to the situation. I’m now hoping for a bigger room with more furniture at some point; I just changed in my old mattress for a new one, as my old one had popped about eight springs along one side, and I managed to find a piece of ¾” OSB to replace the sagging springs on my bed frame; I am complaining about having to walk 200 yards to a mobile-home (sorry, coach) type structure that is outfitted with a slew of showers with plenty of hot water, sinks and mirrors for shaving, etc.; I’ve had so many choices at chow that I find myself deriding the chowhall managers if they only have two dessert options instead of three, or fail to have the pecan pie (which is particularly good); my work environment, while dusty (by clinical standards), is well lighted, moderately cool, and more adequately equipped than some places I’ve worked in the States; and I’ve been averaging more than seven hours of sleep a night.

Of course, I am one of the fortunate here—outside this camp, where the majority of service men and women in this country are, is an extremely more austere and dangerous environment. Please do not take my situation and assume it applies to the majority of folks over here—I feel particularly blessed. Thanks to you all for your prayers and support.

Semper Fi, Jon G.