The story that follows is based upon the actual experiences of Edward H. Griggs III. He served in the army from 1979 to 1997 and left as a Sergeant First Class. More specifically, he was a 98-Charlie, and was in charge of deciphering voice and non-voice codes. During his years in the service, he traveled the globe from Alaska to Korea, from Massachusetts to Germany. When the Gulf War began, Griggs lived in Massachusetts at Fort Devins. Following the war Sergeant Griggs served for six more years. Now he resides in Canton, Connecticut, and works as a special education teacher.
Edward H. Griggs was flown in as part of a two-man mobile training unit; he was an experienced 98-Charlie and the responsibility was solely upon himself and his friend Jeffery T. Baldwin. Trained as code decipherers, Ed and Jeff were long-time pals. They had grown up together in grade school and been friends of each other’s families since they could barely walk. Jeff was like a brother to Ed. They spent nearly a month in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, the conditions were horrid and the heat, scorching. Roughly a week after they arrived, the air war began and the danger increased. Desert Storm was different from all previous wars in that there were many unknowns. Americans were completely unaware of the power Saddam Hussein did or didn’t have.
The day came when Ed and Jeff were finally going to leave the barren wasteland. Supplied with protective gas masks and desert camouflage, they headed out into the morning desert air, crisp and dry, shadowed by the darkness of hate, violence and destruction. During their visit to the Middle East, they had not yet encountered any attacks or signs of war except for the monotonous drone of radio traffic in the piercing sound of the Arabic language.
“So…this is it?” Jeff said. “Not much of a war, is it now?”
“Oh it’s more than what we see,” said Ed, “don’t you worry. There’s something going on somewhere. Not here but somewhere.”
“Yeah, but I just don’t see it…”
At that moment, there was a loud continuous moan and the two turned around to see the red lights. They both knew what it was: an air raid. They had only trained for these severe circumstances, never expecting an actual attack. As a reflex, they retrieved their gas masks from their army knapsacks. As they ran for shelter, scud missiles flew overhead. Patriot missiles, aimed by the ally, retaliated against the enemy artillery. Both men feared that a bomb would land close by and kill them. Straight out kill them. No fighting. No honor. Just shattered dreams and shattered bones.
As they were about to reach the bomb shelter, Jeff lost his footing and stumbled to the ground. Ed, unaware of the fall, dove into the shelter and closed the door behind him just as a scud missile landed a mere 50 yards away. He looked around to see dozens of terrified faces, gas masks and all, but Jeff was not among them. He checked again, calling for his best friend, but no one responded.
Hours later, Ed boarded a plane headed back for the United States, the seat next to his, vacant. Ed looked out the window and whispered to himself, “Not much of a war… is it now.”