I love to read. Even as a kid, I loved to read, a gift from my parents who are both avid readers. Thankfully, all three of our kids love to read as well, though Katty struggled at first. As a result of changing provinces and curriculums, she had to learn to read in English and French at the same time, which caused her great frustration. Luckily, we got her into a literacy program, and she is now reading above grade level, and can switch back and forth from French to English quite easily, as do her brother and sister. When we lived in Gagetown, some friends and I started a book club, and it was fabulous. We had such a great time, and read some fantastic books; Memoirs of A Geisha, The Poisonwood Bible, just to name a few. I've missed my book club since we moved, but have still carried on reading, when I've been able to find the time. Two of my favourite books are The Kite Runner and a Thousand Splendid Suns, both by the same author, Khaled Hosseini. I read The Kite Runner right before we found out Dan would be going to Afghanistan, and I read A Thousand Splendid Suns in London last summer when I couldn't sleep do to jet lag. Both books were set in Afghanistan and I had a hard timing putting both down. I haven't read a book since that captivated me as much as they both did. Until this week. The book is Fifteen Days by reporter Christie Blatchford. Strangely enough, it's another book about Afghanistan (though not so strangely really, as Afghanistan is still a large part of our lives, and always will be, I suppose). The book is a collection of stories from and about Canadian soldiers serving in Afghanistan, 15 different days she had been in Afghanistan. She wrote down the days as they came to her, not in chronological order. As she says in the introduction, "Some of the dates really are significant, certainly in terms of who was lost and sometimes because of what was learned but all of the days matter to me because they speak to the character of the Canadian soldier." I found myself unable to put the book down, not because it is particularly well written, because its not. But I think that is part of the appeal of the book. These stories are raw and gritty and choppy, much as I suspect, life is in Afghanistan. She does not gloss over the stories with fancy words, nor does she try to paint a pretty picture, she just tells the stories as they were, and often through the voices of the actual soldiers themselves. Are they an honest depiction of life in Afghanistan? I think so. Does she have all of the military aspects of it correct? Your guess is as good as mine, though I have discussed parts of the book with Dan, and from what he has read so far, it seems to be an accurate portrayal. Many things struck me as I read this book, first and foremost, was that we could have easily been one of those days. April 11,2007 could have been the date on our chapter, the date Dan's vehicle was hit by a VIED (suicide bomber). I might point out, Dan can't remember the exact date, which struck me as ironic, you'd think you'd remember the day you almost died more clearly, but I guess after many near misses, the days all blend in together. And while he couldn't remember the exact date, he did know it was the same day the two Dragoons died. Dates may be forgotten, but events never are. But for chance, or the grace of God, I could have been one of the wives interviewed. Luckily for me, I was not. Somebody else was. And although, I will always be thankful, I will also always feel guilty because we were lucky, and others weren't. That's a common reaction with military spouses. First the feeling of overwhelming relief it wasn't your husband, followed quickly by a feeling of guilt for being so happy, when someone else is suffering so much. The other thing that struck me as I read this book, was just how many of the people in it I knew, either directly, or indirectly through Dan or someone else. One chapter follows a platoon commander form Edmonton, whom we had met in Gagetown, through mutual friends (our neighbours). I had been at his wife's baby shower. He was injured, but some of his soldiers died. Then there was Nichola, whom I had never met, but Dan had taught her to be a FOO, the job she was doing the day she died. A friend of hers was interviewed in the book, he sat at our table this New Years Eve, and I know many other of her friends. Then there was the company commander who had been injured in the friendly fire in September, 2006. He lived behind us, and Libby played with his daughter. Ian Hope, the PPCLI CO, began his career in the West Nova Scotia Regiment, the same regiment where Dan first began his career. And of course, we both know the BC who was interviewed, he happens to be our buddy Stu's identical twin brother. The same Stu who was my lifeline many times while Dan was gone. In a small army, there are no six degrees of separation, more like 1 or 2. This certainly wasn't an easy book to read. I cried through much of it, but it is one I think all Canadians should read, especially the politicians. If the soldiers in these stories, after everything they have gone through and seen, can still say they believe in this mission, than we should all believe in this mission. They certainly understand far more than Stephane Dion or Jack Layton ever can the full cost of this war. I wonder if either of them has ever believed in anything enough to risk their lives for it, over and over again. Somehow, I don't think so.
As I was finishing this entry up, I heard the news that another soldier had been lost in Afghanistan, another significant day. Then again, I can't help but think every day we have been in Afghanistan has been significant for one reason or another.
"They swung aboard at once, they sat to the oars in ranks. And in rhythm turned the water white with stroke on stroke. And from there we sailed on, glad to escape our death, yet sick at heart for the comrades we had lost."~~Odysseus, from Homer's Odyssey, translated by Robert Fagles.
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