It was a relatively straightforward mission...restore democracy to the righfully elected President of Haiti who had been ousted by General Cedras of the military (it is not lost on me that currently Egypt is experiencing the exact same thing)...and use whatever means necessary.
That's like giving somebody the green light to essentially go kick some ass using airborne troops, naval gunfire and tanks against a semi-informal army opponent who had 5 armored vehicles total.
But what I remember from my fast and furious weeks of activities were actually snippets of time when things took on an almost surreal view...
-I remember the Asian lady as she was sequestered in our ready-rooms, sewing on the colored American flag on the sleeves of my Battle Dress Uniform (BDUs). I remember wondering why it was backwards on my right arm and learned it was the way the flag was represented by history when it was carried on military horse charges, the natural flow as it hurtled into battle. This seems like such a trivial and innocuous moment but for me it was when it really dawned on me that we were going to invade Haiti. You don't sew these onto your day to day uniforms unless you're going to be in a place where you need to be identified as friendly and I remember fingering the patch on my right arm. When I left the military I kept one uniform...that same shirt that has the flag sewn on it.
-I remember the young enlisted armament specialist handing me magazines of ammunition, grenades (smoke and shrapnel) and even asked if I wanted a Light Anti-armor Weapon (LAW) rocket. I was preparing to jump out of a plane and wanted as little extra weight as possible. I thought it might have been cool to go all Rambo on the poor Haitian Defense Force but frankly I would have probably blown up a church or something like. Or worse, a hospital. Even worse my own unit. So I didn't take the LAW but for a brief moment I held it in my hands, marveling that they were dispensing this like so much candy.
-I remember flying with the General to brief the helicopter squadron stationed outside of Miami. We flew at night, and I remember flying low over South Beach, seeing pink neon and green and white lights and marveling at the fact that I was heading to a potential war while these people partied below. And frankly they couldn't have cared less about what I was doing. I was in a private jet, with four other people, and I was insanely jealous of the people below. I felt like I was somewhat swept up in a vortex. It wasn't fear...nothing like that...just a tad of regret. That my path, or my choices that I had made, were now in full-scale comparison to others and we could not have been further apart.
-I remember getting Last Rights said to us, in a large group as we were preparing on D-day. They did have a D-day countdown, starting with D minus 7 or a week away from launch. Time was marked by D-6, D-5...not Monday, Tuesday. It was another moment in that inexorable slide. It was a curious time. I also remember thinking as we were getting blessed and repeating the prayers that everything I had been believing as far as Catholic ritual was being thrown out the window. I was fine with it. But it was interesting.
-I remember telling my parents, in the most vague terms, that I was going to go away "for awhile". My dad completely understood. My mom was a mess.
-I remember packing in our kitchen, our daughter was 5, our son was a little older than 1. I remember us writing my name on parts of my clothing, with A+ (my blood type). Just in case something happened. I remember putting everything into zip-lock bags and then into my rucksack. I remember how quiet it was as we assembled my war things.
And as fate would have it, President Clinton sent former President Carter and former JCS Chairman Colin Powell to let General Cedras know he was about to be invaded by the largest airborne force assembled since World War II. Needless to say the planes turned around and we never went to war.
Some of my friends still went down to Haiti to help stabilize operations and hand out food and water...not my unit...we had been poised to go down and kill people and break things. So we stayed back at Fort Bragg.
A few months later, I left the military. It was a promise I had made and it was a promise I wanted to keep. It was a great decision, with no regrets and a ton of outstanding memories.
But every once in awhile, and maybe perhaps around July 4th, I go back to a time when things were very different and I am thankful that I had had a chance to serve. Not because of some overzealous patriotism...no, not that. Rather that I got a chance to experience some moments that I will never forget. And will fondly remember.
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