Waver

I underwent a significant change yesterday. Since I got here, I've been conducting patrols, riding on convoys, flying across the country-- but I hadn't made up my mind about something. Almost everywhere I've gone, people- and especially children- have been waving as we go by. I had been hesitating on waving back. It's an odd thing to be a part of an occupation. And the incredibly difficult experience of living in an occupied state is quite apparent. No relationship is quite as it seems; nothing can really be taken for granted on either side. We've gained the trust of local leaders, and then later humiliated and detained them based on faulty information. We've given crucial jobs to trusted locals, and later found sensitive information and equipment in the hands of insurgents. So even something as simple as a wave was causing me to suspiciously analyze the motives behind it. Turning the situation around, I could see why anybody might try to appear friendly to heavily armed soldiers driving by in incredibly menacing vehicles. Even as they might very well be cursing at us through their teeth. And the kids may be just parroting behavior that they know can bring them a couple of toys or sweets. So why should I drop my mask?- why relax the image of intimidation that dark sunglasses, a bullet-proof helmet and a radio-headset create? -why allow a wave to suggest a possibility of friendship that neither side can truly believe is genuine as I roll through the dirty streets of another village filled with anxious faces?Aw, hell... Why not? So I just started waving. First just to kids that looked really friendly. Then to their friends that weren't so sure. Then to the farmers that looked up from the fields. I waved at men on donkeys, and families of six packed into tiny two-door cars. I waved at women's eyes that I glimpsed peeping out from under the chador (but not when the men were looking...) I'm a waver. I can't not wave. Not a goofy, hand-flapping wave, mind you- but a restrained Queen Elizabeth. I waved to the Iraqi soldiers that man the gate out in front of my base- and I saluted Iraqi police officers. Most of them were too surprised to salute back. I guess I thought that I might need to look tough and intimidating, but at least I can look human, too.I got hit yesterday. I can't go into all the operational details, but an IED- a roadside bomb- detonated into my vehicle as we drove past on a stretch of highway. The guy's timing was a little off so the damage wasn't that bad. Nobody hurt. Those armored humvees are superb vehicles. We drove through the blast and then doubled back to find the trigger man. It's a strange kind of war. Not much else to say except that it was a learning experience. After the response force arrived and secured the area, we were back on the road and rolling through another village. A little kid waved at me. I looked at him through my cracked windshield- and just had to wave back.