A Bottle of Baltica 9

A three hour flight to Manas went by quickly, despite sitting in a small space where two pieces of nylon met on the bench seats. My legs were cramping and I was sitting knee to crotch across from some Senior Airman, but I didn't really care.

We circled down and dropped into Manas. They opened the cargo hold and cold air flowed in. It was much colder in Kyrgyzstan.

We loaded into buses and as we drove down the flight line I looked for a DC-10. It was January 9 and my flight back to the US was scheduled for that day. There was no DC-10 so I figured it had come and gone earlier in the day.

I can't really describe the feelings of being at Manas AB, but relief is a good general description.

Manas is an old Soviet Air Force base and as you drive onto the main part of the base you are treated to views of new US defensive structures and Soviet buildings from the 70's. Trees, old hangars, razor wire.

Manas now serves as a transition point for personnel moving in and out of Afghanistan. They have a system for processing people and it runs pretty smooth.

Within 30 minutes of getting off the bus I was getting swept up in a rush of unnatural energy. I hadn't slept or even laid prone for four days, but I was overcome with a sudden clarity when a logistics sergeant informed us that there were two flights to Baltimore leaving at 2am-- people who were scheduled to leave on the 9th were now due to leave on the 10th at 2am.

I had a long list of things to do, but my new found strength and mental acuity made these tasks seem simple. I made sure I was on the manifest for the 2am flight and was then walked next door to get my ticket for my flight from BWI to Las Vegas. It was really there, in my hand!

The next step was turning in two dufflebags of military issued gear-- this was accomplished in a huge warehouse-- piece by piece I gave back my body armor, my helmet, my sleeping bag, my chem gear, all of my load-bearing equipment.

I left that building with a lightness. I had literally lightened my load but symbolically I was really making headway towards leaving the war behind. The tools of war become integrated with your daily reality, and shrugging them off starts the process of disintegration.

The next stop was Pete's Place-- a large clamshell tent that housed pool tables, wireless internet, big screen TV's and a bar.

I stood in line with my commander, he bought me a beer, and we found a place to sit.

The beer was a 22oz bottle of Baltica 9, which is a Russian beer. It was one of two choices available. It tasted like other eastern European pale bocks I've had-- the most notable aspect being that after one bottle you don't care what it tastes like anymore.

But I was starting to feel normal again, sitting and sipping a beer, thinking about how I would be seeing my kids in just a matter of hours.

I looked around a saw two people who had come from my FOB on the same Chinook flight. They were USAF EOD Airmen, headed home. They were smiling, talking. They looked happy and light. I saw on their faces a reflection of what I starting to feel inside my heart.