Guest Blogger, Mike T; Get Livin’ or Get Dyin’

This isn’t a submission of guilt or a lynch mob; this is what happens in real life to people who haven’t really done anything to be titled “evil”. I will say in the following submission that this isn’t an isolated episode, it happens every day in America. I know all too many in my close circle that have lived through it and are standing stronger today because of it.

You can never imagine that it would happen, but with one short-sided comment or blaring scream you are there. A slam of the front door, a dropped phone call or the worst of all, that empty feeling that things would never be the same are signs of an ending relationship. Somehow you promise to be respectful, but with a personality like mine, answers are what I am looking for. For her, it was the yearning for a different life. So how does it happen? I am not really sure, one minute you are toasting each other and the next fighting over the stupidest thing possible. Your anger grows and her despair is ever apparent. Your eyes are opened as if someone split your forehead open with a crowbar, that’s how amazing and dramatic the feelings you have eventually become.

So what’s the point of this whole thing? A year has gone by since I departed my old life, my ex-wife and a life that seems a blur in the rear view mirror. A friend was killed, a war rages and we are still here fighting for whatever we think is important. I walked out that door knowing deep down that I would never return, knowing that some much time was wasted by pleading, arguing, negotiating for nothing.

I look back now and know that the decisions made were not easy for either of us. They had to be made regardless though, and now the outcome. What I find amazing is that no matter what, I will say one thing; I didn’t follow the typical path of an ex-husband. I left it, the ink dried and I packed my bags, grabbed the dog and went north. Not knowing what was going to happen, but the point of this is to let you out there know….Get Livin’ or Get Dyin’.

There aren’t any easier answers, but one tool we have in our kit is survival. I went through the bottle; I blamed myself, and everything in between. Without the very close circle of family and friends, I would be DEAD. Yes I said it, DEAD.
No one has the answers for you, I know that now. Whether it was putting a bullet in my own head or getting back on the plane back to Afghanistan, as a dear friend said…”you’re dead already”.

I will admit my mistakes, pay for my sins and most of all, understand I didn’t or wasn’t successful as a husband. I do know though, that was the longest drive to the most unfamiliar place I have ever been too…home. After many long hours in the middle of the quiet night, I decided to go home. I had to open my heart, my hands and say I am sorry. Saying sorry has never been hard, the hard part is that it seems forgiveness has never come easy for those mistakes.

With all that behind me, we are now in May 2011 and I will admit that every morning I stare into the mirror and an overwhelming amount of pride comes over me. I survived; I wasn’t a causality or a statistic that most thought would become of me. I took all that I learned over the past 13 years and applied it. I got my shit together, identified the immediate threats, worked out courses of action and drove the fuck on!

I hold no ill will, it had to be done. Was it my way? No, but you can’t dictate how life is going to deal those cards, you just got to pony up and hope for the best. You dream that whatever it is inside of you will prevail, it will be positive! So like I said, you really only have one choice….GET LIVIN’ or GET DYIN’.

This is dedicated to all of those who stood vigilant in the night with me, answered the midnight phone calls and offered up sound advice and a good hug…you know who you are.

“What a shame to judge a life you can’t change”- Dedicated to all those out there trying to figure it out after so many years of difficult service.

Guest Blogger, Mike T.- Nothing Wrong with Elitism

A few days ago I had the privilege to speak to an old friend who is currently serving on his 5th combat tour in Afghanistan alone (he left his civilian job after 9-11 and joined the military, he has two children and of course his amazing wife). While I was driving down the highway we spoke about the past few years and what has been going on in our lives. As the conversation continued we stumbled onto the topic of elitism. My friend and I have both not only been accused personally but have seen so many comments about it in the press and social media outlets. The definition of elitism is: The belief that certain persons or members of certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment by virtue of their perceived superiority, as in intellect, social status, or financial resources. When I say accused, I mean while in mid conversation concerning the war or the politics behind and how only 1% of this free public has served its nation and how mind blowing that is usually lands me under that title from someone. Not only me, but as I have said my dear friend has heard the same. In the military the world elite means something different to us apparently. I am not saying you have to be the Tier 1 operator running around in cool guy gear, you simply have to do your job to the best of your abilities and looking after your troops…that’s being elite.

I am still trying to figure out how there seems to be two very different implementations of this phrase in our country. There is the one have I just spoken of and the other, let’s take overpaid athletes who are considered elite. Why is this? These are our heroes? These are the people that we envision as elite because they can do what so very few can? Ok…I get it. Then what about the men and women of this country (the 1%’ers as I like to call them) and what they do that so very few can? Elite right? Nope…sorry…apparently too many in the general public think they are not. Yet a football player who is paid a disgusting amount of money to play a child’s game and even sometimes be allowed to act like a child is considered elite.

At rallies, coffee shop chatter, social media sites, and even media sites themselves I have read and heard hundreds of times how returning veterans should not be treated like heroes, role models, or elite Americans. How did we get here? How are children in awe of a 6’1 quarterback who has been accused of domestic violence and other interesting charges as a hero and not that PFC from Wyoming who just completed a combat tour, endured a hellish environment and survived just so that athlete can make millions never mind the security of our nation. Even if that PFC didn’t ever leave the FOB (Forward Operating Base), he or she went and did something very few in this country could. I no longer care about FOBBITS or who does what or doesn’t. This is about recognizing that our veterans and current service members are an elite class.

I am not bashing football players (I love the Giants) but any athlete or actor I don’t care. If they are given the privilege of being called elite, then holy hell so should our men and women who are, have or will serve this nation. These are the people that put their country first and not their own safety, financial gain or self interest. We have our fair share of screw ups in the military, but why aren’t children encouraged to serve their country in a capacity like the military or even government work? Why do we look at as if it was a prison sentence? Next time you see a individual who is in uniform or know someone who has served at some point in some capacity, look to your child and say…that’s an elite person!

Mike T Guest Blogger: Letting the Colors Run

Bouhammer Note- This is a follow up from Mike T’s post back when he was in Afghanistan called “Colors”. A lot has changed for him since March, 31 2008 when he originally wrote “Colors”.

There is no easy way to admit that sometimes things get past you. Someone once told me that if a person has to throw a brick at you to get your attention, then you are moving too fast in life. My brick hit and punched a hole through my chest. It caused an awakening that has been teetering in my head and heart for a while. There are so many reasons and causes for things in my life, but I have stood the line many times before and followed my beliefs and this is no different. Maybe I am saving myself or someone is helping me, either way everyone has to be saved at some time. My time is now and I am here with open arms.

I do not blame all my problems on combat, is there a relationship there? Of course, but who I am and what I do is because of free will. The past twelve years of my life and the events that have occurred in that time frame have shaped who I am today. I have struggled to find out who I am and what I want, all this to include distancing myself from certain friends and most of my family. I held to my beliefs and truly felt that I was right, not so much now. I have struggled to understand my parent’s decisions, I have failed to see the views of others and take them into consideration, and I have allowed my aggression and intensity to push people aside and misconstrued it as a passion. I have been overzealous on the matters that purely simplistic in nature and vowed to make them right. I have failed to grasp both the love and friendship languages that many needed to hear. I have caused disruption in people’s lives because I put the war, the military, and my own beliefs first.

I have crawled my way back into therapy with an open heart and mind, I need to listen, need to understand that some of those quirks are hurting people. I need to come to grips with who I am and what I want to change and what I want to keep about myself, let’s call it taking inventory. Not everything will go and not everything will remain. I have told my therapist that I wanted to lighten the intensity inside of myself, what seems to be even keel to me is not to everyone around me, most of the time it triggers apprehension and forces people to deal with issues that they don’t care about or don’t want to talk about. The Doc says to me the other day “Mike you’re a very intense person, but what you fail to realize is that it can make people feel like your attacking them instead of simply talking to them.” I sat back in the chair and pondered that and felt upset, not upset for myself, but everyone that I have made feel that way. I felt this pain in my stomach as if I had purposely attacked someone and failed to realize it. I told him I wanted to focus on that for the next few months, to work on it in my personal and professional life. He agreed.

Some where along the line I have let my colors slip from me, it’s not because I have fallen out of love or wish to be alone. It’s because I lost focus of what is truly important to me, I have held such contempt for certain people in my life that I never gave myself a chance to forgive them and them to forgive me. The day I realized my colors were running I knew that certain drastic and deep changes had to be made for myself, by myself. I am not sure if they will help my situation, but if I don’t do this now, I will never get off this path. People sometimes say that you need a crisis in your life to take stock in what you have and if it is worth losing, if it’s not, then is it worth fighting for? I believe in my heart it is all worth fighting for now. I have never allowed myself to be truly vulnerable, well times are changing. I am not sure how many of you have had to reach out and say I am sorry for the absurd actions you have done, but the other day I did. I spoke to my father; it has been almost two years now. I did not apologize on the phone, he is a man that believes that should be done in person, I agree. We spoke, he told me how he was still angry with me about not inviting them to my wedding or separating myself from my nieces and nephews. He also told me that I had a death wish, that was hard to hear. He did not mean I wanted to go and do flips of the Empire State Building, but my continuing adventures overseas. I am not a soldier anymore, I am accepting of that. He told me, “son you have to be around, your war is over, you have to be a man who is there for your family, provide stability” he also told me that I needed to realize that my life has new meaning and I need to embrace it. To find what I love and be with it, simply stop leaving us what it comes down to.

After an hour of speaking with him, he told me he was not ready to see me yet, but in time that would change. A new color added.

I have taken off the emotional body armor and it feels as if a thousand pounds has been lost. The past few weeks I have enjoyed slowing down, concentrating on my Master’s, seeing some friends and their kids. This past weekend I talked to someone whom I lost touch with. I asked them for forgiveness for my judgments against them. I am eager to speak with my brother and do the same. I miss him; I have missed his life and that of his family.

At work, I have some options, but in the end I am realizing that I do enjoy myself and my teammates. Not everything is going to be perfect and the move will be difficult, but what I have is pretty damn good. I asked my boss, who is a good man; to simply let me take some time to work on my small projects, travel a bit. He loved the idea and asked then what, I told him, well let’s just worry about that when the time comes. I no longer have any interest to move to another job with another agency. It isn’t perfect here, but I have roots and those roots are growing.

Some heed warning that this is a knee jerk reaction; to me it is something more. That brick that hit me, well it was a wakeup call. As I looked at the damage it caused which were minor, compared to what would be the outcome if these changes were not made. As I said, being vulnerable is new to me, and it’s vindicating to say I am scared and I need help. There are no pills, no booze that could fix this all. It is honesty, faith, hope, commitment and that small voice inside that says I love you.

It is hard to hear someone tell you that they don’t believe you or that mistakes have been made. Honesty is truly difficult; I guess that’s why so many people shy away from it. I am neither martyr nor victim; I am alive and awake…now. I have missed a few things, I have said some horrible stuff, but I am remorseful for those. I have no control what will happen in certain aspects of my life, but I will stay the course. I want to, I have to.

Some of my colors have dulled; some have gone away…maybe forever. I challenge you to look at your life, take stock of your colors and to be a better person. We are all casualties from something, but it should not dictate how we live our lives.

As I write this, I am filling out a Mother’s Day card for the first time in three years. I also received a text saying let’s talk from my brother. I admitted that I failed to see the little things that make you happy. All of this can be changed if all who are involved want to. I opened the door with my family and they have asked me to walk through it…time will heal this.

Colors of your life can be as vibrant as you want them to be or as dark ugly as well. In chaos comes clarity. I know where that brick came from and the dent that it has left will remain as a constant reminder for me to live my life with passion, honesty, compassion, love and tolerance.

Guest Blogger, Mike T: From the Battlefield to the Boardroom

As I woke up this morning I felt the cold rush over me as I slipped out from underneath the warmth of my bed, realizing it was going to be another cold one out there. The sun was barely up and I quietly walked by the PT room and headed down the corridor. Not to my surprise the sentry was once again asleep on duty until I grunted a bit and he shot up. It seems as if the cold never leaves your body, especially when you begin to get older. I approached the snack area to make myself a shake and grab some yogurt. After downing the vitamin shake to help control my B-12 issue (yes, I know it’s usually a chick thing!) I headed up to the sleep quarters and figured out what the attire of the day was going to be. I grabbed my pants and belt and continued to finish the process. I walked past the half asleep sentry and grunted once again in amusement as he picked his head up and rolled over. What a deal!

I departed through the main gate to my vehicle and turned it over, realizing I had forgotten my cool guy sun glasses and returned once again to retrieve them. Upon doing so, the vehicle was modestly warm and I hoped in. It was now 0730(L) and I was departing for my mission of the day…going to work! The funny thing was, I was wearing Armani grey slacks and white shirt with a dark blue Mens Express tie. The vehicle was my SUV, but the glasses were still “Cool Guy” Standard Issue Oakley’s! That sentry I happened to find passed out while on duty was my German Shepherd pup and the PT room was actually at PT room, but not filled with soldiers, only my wife. I have left the battlefield behind me about a year and half ago, somewhat of a physical distance from Golestan located in the Southern arena of the Stan.

My gun truck in now my silver SUV and my weapon is a cell phone and blackberry, not very intimidating but almost as effective. As I said, my uniform is what I like to refer to as boardroom armor. I no longer need to rely on OPORDS to get things done nor do I need to be reminded that I must shave and keep a neat military appearance; civilians do not mind beards and a bit longer hair. My problem is I think I left most of it back in the Stan! The battlefield is now in the boardrooms, teleconferences and last minute trips to “other areas” where my peers are at. The closest thing to an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) is the garbage can on the side of the hallway. Pieing the corner is a thing of the past, I know whip around the corner without a care in the world.

The day consists of a quiet lunch minus the feces blowing onto it, people not trying to kill you, and well my favorite, being inside a controlled climate. My C2 Center is now a comfortable chair, cherry desk, and all the lavish amenities any man would care for. I can come and go as I want without interference or worrying about the locals peering at me and reporting mine and others movements. I do not have to negotiate for supplies nor do I have to smell shit everywhere! That is a plus no matter what! The major and minor operations are mostly peaceful and respectful in nature, people are there to get along and help. The terms please and thank you ring out like a shotgun blast, the echoing of laughter is easy to find. A piece of mind for anyone who has worked in OEF/OIF would appreciate it.

They day draws to a conclusion as I depart from the building with a steady ray of sunshine to escort back to the vehicle, checking in with Household Six to make sure I do not need to do an emergency resupply before I head back to the house. All is good and I am green to go! Upon my arrival I am met with a bark of excitement and eagerness to play by the pup. I pet the cat who is eagerly awaiting his dish to be filled. I continue to Charlie Mike by walking the perimeter with Duke (the pup) and enjoy what seems to be the quietest part of my day. We break to pick up the mail and head towards the house. I shower in a clean bathroom that lacks the Afghan “touch”, dress, and head downstairs to begin creating an exceptional meal for my wife of less than one year.

As she arrives, the aromas of tonight’s meal beckons her for attention and in response a smile and a long kiss. In my mind it seems that boardroom warfare seems more desirable than its predecessor.

1st Bouhammer Roundtable Podcast

I am so honored to have hosted the first ever Bouhammer Roundtable podcast this last weekend. I am joined on this podcast by two regular contributors to the Bouhammer blog, Mike T. and Scott Kesterson.

In this podcast, which is actually #13 on this site (not #12 as I stated in the podcast), Scott, Mike and I talk about a variety of topics dealing with Afghanistan. We cover the use of National Guard and the important role they have played in the war, some of McChrystalâ€™s policies and even the current hot topic of the photo by the AP of the dying Marine last Friday.

As you can imagine, the connectivity from Afghanistan is not always the best but Scottâ€™s connections holds up well until the end of the podcast. I hope you can take some time to listen to the three of us talk about some of the current hot-topic and important issues with Afghanistan.

Bouhammer Roundtable with Troy, Mike and Scott

MIKE T. BLOG: To ask for a friends hand in war

I am not sure when I lost my friend but tonight I think I did?

He asked me to send him to war which sent me back on my heels. He stated it was his time and that I had done enough and he has done little. We sat drinking beers and pondering the universe, but all that could come of it was that I had done my time and he had not.

I have known this man for years; he was truly a good friend, like the friend that I could count on one hand type. He watched over Nicole while I was gone myself in Afghanistan and never did I think twice about it. My heart dropped when he told me this, I thought about six different ways to tell him that he didnâ€™t need to go, but yet all he could come back with was why me and not all the others?

I stared in amazement and said it wasnâ€™t his duty and yet he came back again and raged that he was like all the others and it was his time. My mind raced to think about the excuses that I could use, but nothing worked.

I hung over his truck and screamed at him, begging him that it â€œwasnâ€™t his warâ€. It was mine; ours, the ones who went out there and came back under-appreciated and misunderstood. That is our bond, maybe being selfish, maybe scared that I wouldnâ€™t get him back. He has watched over me for so long that I forget the time we met. This war is hard, its unpredictable, itâ€™s for those who are willing to climb the mountains, walk the deserts, able to look to the skies and know that no one is looking back at them. I donâ€™t want Joe to endure that, he is better than that.

I rode home tonight with Nicole and felt the rush of the Jersey shore on our faces and I am not sure that I can convince him to do other than what he wants. I stared into her eyes and wished for an answer and she could simply say itâ€™s not your war anymore; it is his if he wants it. What scares me more than anything else is being there, God forbid, if the word comes and the chaplain is at the door like in the movies. Have you ever seen At War, the ramp ceremony, the scene in We Were Soldiers? Christ I couldnâ€™t do it! Not this time, not with him or his family, they mean too much. I would rather go back myself; at least I know I am good at it.

As we sat there tonight I told him to accept the wind, the smell of the ocean, the quietness of his neighborhood, because god damn it would be the last time until he got his ass home that he would ever feel it again, but every day over there that is all he would think about. I feel like I cannot prepare him or ask anyone who has been there to do the same thing and feel good about him being successful.

Fuck I hate this, those who have not gone want the chance now. Of all the times to do this, they choose now! It is a horrible time in the Stan and my god damn best friend wants to be in the shit. So I said ok, I will do it. I will put you in touch with those that are going over, but I am not going to god damn like it. To those who have been left out of war, here is your chance to join those who suffer nothing less than the pain they have inflicted.

America Redefined

The following posting is from Guest Blogger: Mike T.

When I was eighteen I awoke one morning to realize America was changing, but I was not so sure how. Fast forward eleven years and I am now seeing it clear as day. America is redefining itself in a way that only the future citizens of this country shall know.

We are a country of whiners, complainers, and blamers. For the past few generations our country has grown into those who earned to those who expect. We have raised our children to seek instant gratification, to worship fifteen minute of fame media whores, and to believe that our country is the root of all evil. Our society believes every child should be special and earn a trophy or you should not be held accountable for your actions; itâ€™s someone elseâ€™s fault as the saying goes. We teach our own to break the little rules because no one cares about them and if youâ€™re caught deny and lie until it hurts.

We are a country of law suit fanatics, artists of guilt, and simply uneducated individuals. In this country we have more lawyers then we do law enforcement personnel or teachers! We paint scenarios of racism in this country as a free check to do what ever you please. Is there racism, of course, but not unlike any other country has to deal with. When people stop feeling guilty for their own personal beliefs and ideas, which this country was founded on, maybe the guilt, will recede and we can start being honest in this country. The uneducated is directed to those who read only half of the story, those who truly are not privileged to the information about what goes on inside and outside of this country because YOU DO NOT NEED TO KNOW! No other country has a Freedom of Information Act. Why do Americans feel that they have the right to know everything because I can honestly tell you that you would not sleep for a week if you did?

My country is crumbling before my eyes and there is nothing I can do about it except to educate myself and others, embrace change, but most importantly when my soul weakens to look up at the red, white, and blue and hope it is not too late.

We are a country that sat on Washington DC and booed our former President, the same man we re-elected. I ask you to think, what would you have done differently? Not every decision was the right one, many mistakes were made, but he made a decision. That is the problem in our country as well, we like to think we would have made a better decision, but once again the President, cabinet, Congress, and Senate all had knowledge of these decisions. Are people that blind to think the President goes around making decisions and thatâ€™s set in stone? Read the papers yesterday, President Obama is now facing the same issues with the Congress and Senate as President Bush did.

Why is it in this country people feel self-entitled to everything? Is it that we have to much access to technology, information, or are we that naÃ¯ve to think we deserve for the simple fact of being Americans? Why do people latch onto whatever is the popular trend, listen to actors and believe everything that comes out their mouth concerning politics, engage in radical ideas on how everyone must be equal. Nothing in this world is equal, it is physically impossible. Our country was born out of the want for competition, the opportunity (not right) to succeed, and the willfully understanding that future generations would have to understand the past to change the future.

So I sit here and I struggle to look out my window and see America. I am not rich, I have a modest home, I have served my country in time of peace and war, I earned my college education on my own dime, donated my spare time to charities when possible, obtained a job in the civilian sector, and found someone to love. I struggle with being blamed for acts that occurred more than two hundred years ago, I am second generation American. I struggle with taxes for social programs for those who choose not to take care of themselves. I struggle that 50% of my income is taken away from me. I struggle to listen to people who believe think outside America the world is perfect or that their people out there who want to do harm to us just because they can? Why is that so hard for people to believe?

A man in my position is about to become the highest tax bracket, will never see any special programs, scholarships or tax breaks because of my color or gender. I watch illegal citizens get better health care than myself and fellow veterans. I am accused of being rich because I have a decent job, accused of keeping others down, accused of spreading Mr. Bushâ€™s policies and destroying our image to other countries.

To all those reading this, as I tell my future wife we must remain vigilant, must keep our faith in our countryâ€¦ (Nothing to do with religion). We must think back to those difficult times from the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the multiple conflicts, the 1960â€™s when our country was tearing itself apart, and now. Change is coming and so many have asked for it, what happens to our country and to those who truly believe so much change is coming and it does not happen? Will you riot; will you blame someone else like you are so good at? I ponder this everyday. To those brothers and sisters in arms, to those who support us, and to those who do not regardless we will remain on our watch until everyone is home and if there is a time were this world will only know war in a past tense. Mike T.