Preparation for war begins long before one ever faces battle. It starts with the leader and ends with the leader. You must make sure that your soldiers have everything they need before the first shot is fired. Some days you prep them mentally. Some days you prep them physically. Some days you prep them tangibly. You give them the mindset they need to kill, the physical tools to fight and the equipment to do it with. A lot of times you don't even know what the hell the training you're ordered to give has to do with your mission. But since you mission changes all the time you have to prepare for that too. Train. Rinse. Repeat. Everything gets beat into your skull until you don't think ... you react. It's the way of war. The warrior that's better at reacting than thinking lives. His enemy dies.
Our journey has begun. We knew that deployment was coming again. We just didn't know where. Now we do. Unofficially. And we know the date. Unofficially. But at least we know who we're fighting with. Unofficially. They tell us so that we know. But officially we know nothing. They tell us nothing is set in stone because at any time it could all change and until we are sitting with a weapon in our hand, a round in the chamber and Afghanistan soil beneath our boot it's not official. Eight months or so from now that will be the reality.
I am a squad leader. I have 12 men under me. I say men. Others will say boys. This is not far from the truth. A good portion of them are 19 and 20. They were thinking about their summer vacation or losing their virginity not long ago. Now they're wondering what strange world they are about to be put into. I'm thinking about how to explain to their parents that a 27 year old who looks even younger is leading them on missions to kill a dangerous enemy that threatens our nation. I'll try to convince them that they are ready to do this. Both the parents and my soldiers. But that starts with training, training, and then, after it's been drilled into their heads over and over, more training.
