- Joined
- Apr 23, 2012
- Messages
- 2,333
- Reaction score
- 2,090
- Location
- SE Asia
- Gender
- Male
- Political Leaning
- Libertarian - Left
I used to be stationed in Libya. I got there prior to the Arab Spring when Wacky Gadaffy was still in power. It was considered a safe assignment back then. Diplomats were assigned there on accompanied tours. I was there with my wife and two young children. When the Revolution broke out I was responsible not only for the safety of my family, but for organizing the evacuation of all Americans in country. It was single handedly the most stressful couple weeks of my life, by orders of magnitude. Those of us in the military understand we can end up in a combat zone during our careers. It goes with the territory. But there isn't a Soldier, Marine, Sailor, or Airman who would want to bring their family along for that.
But that is what happened. One day everything was peaceful. My kids enjoyed the playgrounds available in Tripoli. For whatever reason Qadahfi liked building play grounds every couple blocks. And then the next day people were being gunned down in the streets. I will never get the image out of my head of making my family lay down in the bathtub as tracer rounds were flying over our roof and 50 Cal was being fired in front of our house. My wife trying to comfort our crying baby and my 4 year-old saying "Daddy, can I go watch the fireworks?" "STAY DOWN GOD DAMN IT!" I replied, which made him join in the crying. i couldn't take my eyes off the front door. What if they came in? I might be able to kill a couple but then what would happen to my family? Would it be better not to fight back? Probably. Surely they wouldn't hurt my wife with our kids there, right? I spent that entire night like that, with the embassy radio just telling us all to stay put until their was a respite in the fighting.
The airport was closed off. Road blocks everywhere. Every attempt to get our families out kept failing. The fear of a desperate Qadahfi deciding to take the American diplomats hostage kept growing and growing. After a week of Hell we managed to get the families and non-essential personnel onto a ferry, leaving just a handful of us essentials behind. There were only two US military personnel in the entire country. I was one of them. Nothing will describe the relief I, and others, felt once we had the families out of country. I fully expected to die. We were held up in the embassy, the local guard force had high tailed it out of there, and the fighting was getting closer all the time. We were surprised the embassy hadn't been stormed yet. And if it were stormed, fighting would have only gotten us killed quicker. Maybe 5 of us on the compound were trained in armed combat. We did not have any Marine Security Guards back then.
I won't go into details of how the last of us finally managed to sneak out. It wasn't as elaborate as Argo (though numerous scenes of that movie engender some definite flashbacks), but the whole time I was expecting Regime forces to catch us right at the last minute. I'm the guy who hastily took down the Flag from the Embassy just before making our escape. And soon after we were out of country, the embassy was indeed stormed and burned to the ground.
So when I got word that they are sending me back it engendered some powerful emotions. Obviously it is an unaccompanied post nowadays so I won't be bringing my family, not that I would even if I could. And I admit I am curious to see how things have changed since the Revolution. And I am looking forward to seeing my Libyan friends, many who took to the streets against the Regime. So my feelings are mixed. I have tried to put the memories of my family being stuck in that war zone out of my head. I am hoping the familiar sights of Tripoli don't make that any more difficult than it already is. I think knowing this time my family is safe and sound back in the States will make all the difference. I don't fear the possibility of being killed in the line of duty. I certainly don't want that, but I made my peace with that possibility back in the 90s when I first enlisted. No, it is the memories I fear.
I still have some time before reporting. I have to finish up my current assignment and then I have some refresher Arabic training to go through. I won't post here exactly when I am going. I just wanted to get some stuff off my chest. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
But that is what happened. One day everything was peaceful. My kids enjoyed the playgrounds available in Tripoli. For whatever reason Qadahfi liked building play grounds every couple blocks. And then the next day people were being gunned down in the streets. I will never get the image out of my head of making my family lay down in the bathtub as tracer rounds were flying over our roof and 50 Cal was being fired in front of our house. My wife trying to comfort our crying baby and my 4 year-old saying "Daddy, can I go watch the fireworks?" "STAY DOWN GOD DAMN IT!" I replied, which made him join in the crying. i couldn't take my eyes off the front door. What if they came in? I might be able to kill a couple but then what would happen to my family? Would it be better not to fight back? Probably. Surely they wouldn't hurt my wife with our kids there, right? I spent that entire night like that, with the embassy radio just telling us all to stay put until their was a respite in the fighting.
The airport was closed off. Road blocks everywhere. Every attempt to get our families out kept failing. The fear of a desperate Qadahfi deciding to take the American diplomats hostage kept growing and growing. After a week of Hell we managed to get the families and non-essential personnel onto a ferry, leaving just a handful of us essentials behind. There were only two US military personnel in the entire country. I was one of them. Nothing will describe the relief I, and others, felt once we had the families out of country. I fully expected to die. We were held up in the embassy, the local guard force had high tailed it out of there, and the fighting was getting closer all the time. We were surprised the embassy hadn't been stormed yet. And if it were stormed, fighting would have only gotten us killed quicker. Maybe 5 of us on the compound were trained in armed combat. We did not have any Marine Security Guards back then.
I won't go into details of how the last of us finally managed to sneak out. It wasn't as elaborate as Argo (though numerous scenes of that movie engender some definite flashbacks), but the whole time I was expecting Regime forces to catch us right at the last minute. I'm the guy who hastily took down the Flag from the Embassy just before making our escape. And soon after we were out of country, the embassy was indeed stormed and burned to the ground.
So when I got word that they are sending me back it engendered some powerful emotions. Obviously it is an unaccompanied post nowadays so I won't be bringing my family, not that I would even if I could. And I admit I am curious to see how things have changed since the Revolution. And I am looking forward to seeing my Libyan friends, many who took to the streets against the Regime. So my feelings are mixed. I have tried to put the memories of my family being stuck in that war zone out of my head. I am hoping the familiar sights of Tripoli don't make that any more difficult than it already is. I think knowing this time my family is safe and sound back in the States will make all the difference. I don't fear the possibility of being killed in the line of duty. I certainly don't want that, but I made my peace with that possibility back in the 90s when I first enlisted. No, it is the memories I fear.
I still have some time before reporting. I have to finish up my current assignment and then I have some refresher Arabic training to go through. I won't post here exactly when I am going. I just wanted to get some stuff off my chest. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
