Master Sergeant Chris Corbin

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Next episode will be this Wednesday
22 Feb @ 2000 hours EST

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This is a post that i scribed in August 2019.

Still valid…

Ok... i started to write this out hours ago, but i deleted what i had typed, as it was an angry view, spewing hate, and bitter malcontent...

I was driving to Florida to see my bad ass prosthetist, and score some new kicks. And a few songs in a row, struck a nerve or 90, and i was spinning in my head, a mix of emotion, all wanting to come out at once. Hate was the winner at that point, so i chose to keep rolling, until i could clear the mechanism, and organize my thoughts a bit...

“Keep the wolves away”... f**k... both of my grandfathers fought in WW II. My father missed Vietnam by a year, but got down in panama, then 20 years later in Iraq and Afghanistan. Then i fought a few times in Afghanistan. We’ve taken turns, keeping the wolves away. And it’s my generations turn, that I’m referring to now.

My time of fighting wasn’t over yet. Plenty of fight left in me. I kinda feel as if i were robbed of 2,3 or 4 more rounds. But i can get past that. S**t happens, and if you believe in karma, well, i gave plenty of those s**t heads a dirt nap, and those f**ked up old Ranger feet were all they could take? F**k you, i win.

I’m a mean, hateful f**k. Abrasive and righteous at the same time. But, honestly, not what I’d consider a “good person”. I’m a great friend to many, but my attitude has ruined relationships like it was my f**king job. And that’s not the wars fault, that’s all me, prior to and since time in combat.

I received a PM from an old friend, referencing my post from 2016 about my friend Drew. He thanked me for my ability and willingness to put into words, the feeling of so many of our brothers. But, he mentioned something that i hadn’t applied to my thought process yet. Survivors guilt... f**k... that sat so f**king heavy on top of my mind, and i think that and the solitude of the highway trip, and those few songs, gang banged my mind.

That’s it. Me, the mean hateful f**k. The relationship killer. The abrasive prick. Why the f**k an i still here?

Why is Jeff Kettle gone, and I’m still here. Jeff was a good man, friend and father. I listened to him die on Sat 102. And why was i spared?

Why is Andrew McKenna gone, and I’m still here? Drew was a great man, an awesome friend and son. And why am i the one still here?

Why is Dave Hurt gone? Lungs full of flames, died and didn’t acknowledge death for another 10-15 feet outside of his vehicle. Dave was a good strong man, husband and father. And yet I’m the one picked to survive?

The list goes on for pages and years...

So.... F**k whoever makes these decisions.

F**k you for the weight that i didn’t ask for. F**k you for the weight of carrying on the legacy of men greater than i could be. F**k you for leaving me here, f**k you for making me look their families eye to eye. F**k you for the pain of knowing these men and wishing that it had been me in their place. F**k you for the images in my head of their families staring at f**king pictures, because that’s all they have left. I f**king hate the f**k out of you for all of these things, that i didn’t ask for, that i don’t feel that i deserve, that i continuously feel inadequate to uphold their honor in their absence.

Ahhhhhhh..... breathe mother f**ker, breathe....

It’s this thought “that i continuously feel inadequate to uphold their honor in their absence.” that drives me. This very line, that keeps me engaged in the fight. That, no matter how many times i get put on my back, that makes me get up swinging. That i feel out of my league, so i make myself stronger, so i can shoulder the load. That i feel like the weak link on the team, that makes me push through it, refusing to be the one that can’t be counted on.

It’s the pure fear of being the invalid, that drove me to return to duty in less than 5 months of getting my feet taken from me. Some people are inspired by my “strength”, but the reality is, that i was scared s**tless to be thought of as weak. And that drove me harder.

As corny as it may sound, i get stronger by helping people sort out their feelings, because it helps me understand my own feelings that much better, every, f**king, time, that i do it... “train the trainer” concept... like a big AmWay pyramid scheme... lol When I’ve steered people through the clouds, i gain power. And when i see and hear about people that I’ve helped, also helping others, i get a fraction of that power as well....

I would take all the weight from all of my brothers and sisters if i could handle it. I try my ass off, but I’m not strong enough to shoulder it all... yet.... and I’m working on that inadequacy, every day.

I recently had the husband of a dear friend contact me, and mentioned that my friend, a nurse, one of the sweetest, strongest women that i know, was having a hard time dealing with people. THAT wasn’t right. She can’t have that problem. Not her. Something is off here. I was dialing before i read the whole message. I made her laugh, in my customary (crude) fashion. And we talked for nearly an hour. I did what i could to take her weight from her, and i think (hope) that some of my rambling helped her see things in a different light. But i couldn’t see straight after we hung up, due to the tears in my eyes. I hated that my friend hurt. I hated whoever put those thoughts in my friends life. I couldn’t stand to see this powerful lady in so much pain. I’d have murdered a bus load of kids, knowing I’d be damned to hell for doing so, to keep her demons from bothering her, even if only for a few moments.

I can take it. Or, rather, i have to take it. Just one more. And then another. And another. F**k, this might be all I’m good for in this world. Well, that and being the shining example of what NOT to do... And, i have the best outlet in the world. I have a man that i call brother, inked on my right side, that can take my weight from me, from time to time. And no amount of “thank you’s” can ever express my gratitude for his friendship. Because after he takes my weight, I’m able to take even more...

I f**king hate that I’m left here with this weight. I f**king hate that my friends, brothers and sisters have these things in their heads that cause them pain. But i hate so much more that i cannot stop their pain.

And this was the less hateful version....

RLTW!
DOL
Corb.

While chatting with an old friend recently, for whom i have an enormous amount of respect and admiration…

We mostly caught up, as it had been a bit… but the subject turned towards retirement, as he’s closing in on it. As I’ve been retired for nearly 9 years, it caused me to reflect a bit…

My first year of retirement, i didn’t miss it at all… sort of like an “extended block leave”, if you will…

The next few years, i missed some folks, and i missed the good times… the fun stuff… but i definitely did NOT miss the dumb s**t…

The last year or so, i found myself missing ALL OF IT… the people, the good stuff, and the bull s**t… as everyone knows, the bull s**t makes for some funny stories around the camp fires, so to speak…

And tonight, i noticed the 3/4 moon and the clear, star filled sky… a beautiful sight, to be sure… but, my first thoughts were not of the serenity, but, of how awesome it’d be to be kitted up, walking through the desert, hunting men…

“Moon’s out, Goons out”…

The hours. The sweat. The exhaustion. The satisfaction…

Man, that feeling… nothing in this world compares to that feeling…

Anyone who truly knows me, knows that I do not care for organized religion… but I hope that there’s a hall where warriors dwell, so that i might see some old friends one day, to break some bread and sip some swill…

RLTW!
DOL
Corb…