- Something really ironic happened the other day. I was just getting on the internet and I was going to write a little update on the blog. Since everything I had been writing about lately was bad news, I decided that I would freshen things up a bit with a lighter fare. The topic I had chosen was a little bet that was made between my two best friends in the platoon Clay Hunt and Jeff Muir. On the way over here they got into a little argument over who was going to get bigger during the deployment. They decided to settle it with a bench press competition. The stakes...$500. They even went so far as to enact what came to be called the "Purple Heart Clause" which stated that no injury or wound recieved would exempt the wounded from owing the bet, if you couldn't bench you were going to pay up.
So that's the brief background. So, there I was, getting ready to start typing when the radio watch comes upstairs looking for the CO.
"Where's Captain Popowski, we just received a medevac request?"
"Where's the CO, Golf 3 Alpha just sent up a 9 line."
That's my platoon. We were only 3 days out from losing Windsor, and our first squad had just punched on a short local patrol. I about put my fist through the screen. A lot of chaos ensued in the following minutes. QRF was launched for backup and the rest of my platoon began staging for secondary QRF. We were all huddled around a man-pack radio, trying to listen in to the reports as they were being sent up, but we couldn't get who had gotten hit, or how bad.
Then I heard Wiley, "It was Hunt"
My stomach dropped right out of me. I just felt like vomiting. Within 2 seconds I thought about pretty much everything I could think of. The last 7 months going to LA every weekend with him. Sunday Fundays. The bet. Meeting his parents. His memorial. I was expecting the worst.
"He got shot in the hand"
Boom. I snapped back to the present. The hand? Haha, that poor bastard.
Roberts- "Well, looks like Hunt owe's you $500 Muir"
"Damn thats messed up. You gotta give it at least...at least a 5 minute grace period before you say something like that"
As you can see, it didn't take long for the situation to lighten. We ended up getting called out on secondary QRF. On my way out to the Vic's, Hunt was kneeling there, waiting for an airlift. He waved me over. By this point he was all hopped up on morphine.
"Wood, I love you man, I love you brother. I'm gonna be okay, but I love you man"
"Allright buddy, I hear ya. You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah man, just fightin' for those dollar beers man"
Well Hunt, congratulations. You're going home. I know you'd rather be with us, but you did your part. We'll share those beers back in the States in five months.
Much love. $1 beers in '07.