Jesse Martinez (26:58)
My world was shattered on September 11. I was only in seventh grade. I was getting ready for school, and I remember looking on the TV and it's one hell of a thing to see the towers burning and not even understanding what it meant. You see the little black dots falling from the sky, and I didn't understand that those were people. And my mom walked by. I remember she just looked at me. She just shook her head and said it was awful. But I didn't even understand what was awful. We went to school, and then we just watched what was going on in the news. The whole time in class, they didn't talk to us about what was going on or what it meant or who did it or anything like that. We were just watching these screens of towers falling and people flying out of the fucking sky. I'm shaking just thinking about it. It sort of ended my childhood that day. So the next few years, I just watched the news. I mean, I was horrible, horrified, and scared, but I couldn't. I couldn't look away. It changed me. It gave me a sense of purpose that I didn't have yet. Maybe I shouldn't have had it at that age, but I wanted to fucking kill these fucking Muslim fucking terrorists. And so in 2010, I left. And I left to kill. I was angry before September 11th, and I was angry for various reasons afterwards with my life and how I was going. And leaving for the army was a dream for me. My father is a habitual drug user, and my mother left him when I was five. And then my sister died when I was in high school. I was definitely angry already. So nothing the army gave me or what terrorists did that day. I didn't want to be some career soldiers. I thought that I could be used as a tool to kill as many as I could, and I wanted to kill as many as I could. I was solely prepared to die. And in fact, I thought that might be the only death that people would remember me for. I was on a lunch break from my grocery store job, and I went to the army recruiter I didn't know what I wanted to be. I thought maybe I could be one of those machine door gunners on a helicopter. He told me he couldn't. So then I was just thinking infantry. And the recruiter told me, well, check out the cavalry scouts before you make a final decision. And I watched the video, and I was. I was unsure. And then he said, well, you're gonna be able to kill a lot of people if you're a cavalry scout, and you won't be able to do that if you're in the infantry. And so I said, all right, let's do it. So about three and a half months into deployment, it wasn't what I had anticipated. The Taliban, they weren't coming out to fight on the terms that I had wanted, only leaving IEDs and not really any gunfire. And I was bored. I was bored. There was nothing to do. You just sit around when you're not on mission and you're jacking off, you're exchanging pornography, you're smoking cigarettes, you're working out, you're sleeping, you're eating, you're shitting. I didn't feel like I was doing what I was assigned to do or what I should be doing. I felt as though I was being wasted and our time was being wasted. So any sort of distraction was a godsend. We would exchange videos and porn files off of our laptops and external hard drives. This one day, I call him Smith. He was in our troop. Smith was a specialist and he was a gunner. And I didn't particularly like him. The first time I met him, he didn't rub me in the right way. So Smith gave his laptop to a couple of my friends. Before he did, he had thrown away something in the trash bin. And so my friends, they were browsing the laptop for porn and stuff, and then they remembered, like good scouts, that they had to check what was in that trash bin that he left there. And so they opened it up and they found a video file. It was webcam, and all you could see was the neck down of a man. And he is completely naked. And he starts putting condoms on random items you would find in a room. Shampoo bottles, the case that you would put a toothbrush in, the toothbrush, then other things that are more specific. Dildos and butt plugs. And he put condoms on all these things. And then he started putting him up his ass. And they were laughing. They were having a good old time. And then they realized, wait a minute, that chair looks a lot like the chair we had in the hallway in Germany. And so now they're really interested. And this is a pretty long video, so they start skipping around to see if they can sky ever shows his face. And towards the end, the climax, I guess you could say, he has a bat. And he puts the larger end of the bat in his ass. And they are just roaring with laughter. And before the video ends, he gets up from the chair and he turns off the webcam, exposing his face. And it's Smith. In a couple days, everyone around the FOB knows about Smith and his bat. And we're writing Batman logos in the bathroom stalls where calling up on the net, talking about baseball and Batman. And everybody knows. Everybody knows except for Smith. But then when he does find out, it ends up being one of those moments where you can't take it back. And he realizes to what extent he's been alienated by us. He is extremely angry and understandably very hostile to us. Us in both words and actions. We're at the picnic table outside the Chew. The Chew is where we sleep. Smith walks by and he's. He overhears us talking about him. He doesn't walk over, but he starts shouting at us. My friend told him, shut the fuck up. Go stick another baseball bat up your ass. And they get in a shouting match and eventually Smith just walks away. So it ends up being almost a month after the video is out that Smith actually talks to the commanders. And he goes above our own unit, above our captain. And he ends up talking to, I believe, the commander of the FOB we were at. I'm sorry if I'm. When I'm saying FOB I'm saying Forward Operating Base, which comprises many different units. And that's when they start giving out the orders and threats that anyone who talks about it, anyone who shares the video is going to be in trouble. But they were largely ineffective because everyone's still laughing about it. So he's got another six months with us. He started eating lunch alone. Actually, his best friend was my roommate. And so I made no qualms telling him what I thought about Smith or the fact that he was hanging out with Smith. I'm sure I said something like, did he stick a bat up your ass or did you film it? Or something like that. Everyone was masturbating. Pretty much everyone in my platoon had a Fleshlight. You wouldn't believe how many dudes have gotten other dudes semen all over their hands trying to figure out what the fuck those things were when they pick him up in the room. And then you just get Fucking a load of another dudes. Fucking cold, thick, sticky fucking semen all over their hands. That happened a lot. We would actually have times prescribed for one another to jerk off. I would tell my roommate, I'm feeling like I need to jerk off or I'm starting to get hard, so can you leave the room? And they would go to have a cigarette, and I would, too. For them, Afghanistan has more American semen than most bathhouses in America. And we all knew it. We would laugh about it. There is something remarkable when you're shitting and showering and jerking off just a few feet away from someone who could save your life. It can bring brothers together. The army is a pretty amazing organization when you think about it, what the job that it has to do, and then the conditions and standards in which it has to accomplish it is astronomical. You're asking these people from all different backgrounds and colors and creeds and economic standings and social classes, and you're asking them to work together under the worst circumstances possible. And one of the ways I think that we accomplish that is because we're fucking cruel. We don't hide who we are. We don't hide how we feel about things. Even though we know we're generally ignorant or wrong, we still like lashing out sometimes. And sometimes it takes in the forms of jokes. So joking about a specific racial stereotype or whatever, and then not being offended, being able to understand a little bit where that person is coming from, because you haven't had a whole lot of dealings with that other person's race. And so you might have your own stereotypes about them. It creates a different sort of friendship and bond that isn't like that I've ever had as a civilian. That, I guess sort of mellowed me out a little bit. Because you were able to make some. Some amazing brothers. And I don't feel as angry anymore. I don't feel as alone. Is probably one of the reasons why, is because I do have these brothers now. And it's because they've been able to call me a wetback or a spic or a beaner, and I've never cared. And I was able to call them whatever the fuck they are. All that stuff is great when it's working, right? But when it came to Smith, we dropped the ball because he didn't have that brotherhood. He didn't have that feeling that I feel now. And I felt at the time where I felt secure, I felt safe. I felt no matter what, these guys had my back. They can say whatever they want, but I know that their fucking actions are gonna back up that oath they took. I don't think we ever once thought Smith was gay or we were attracting any sort of actual hatred of homosexuals. But it stung in a way that it can only sting when you're in a male dominated combat field being called gay. At the time, no one was out. It might have been sanctioned by the President as being fined, but no one admitted it, at least not in our unit. Which is interesting enough because we ended up finding out there was far more homosexuals after deployment than there was during, myself included. While I don't find males necessarily attractive, I have a certain inkling for transsexuals. So, yeah, we made fun of each other about our religion, our sexuality, the way we talked, our job performance. We would use all sort of curse words. Nigger, wetback, kike, gook, sand nigger. There was nothing held back, which you think we would. Might think differently when you're saying these words to people who also have guns. But nothing was out of bounds. Smith, unfortunately, he just had the juiciest one where we could all get behind because it was so odd and so peculiar that people who you would think would have some of the most professional standards in the Army, Navy Seals included, are making fun of him. So Smith, he got. He got sent to a unit that was outside of our own specifically. So he was not harassed anymore. But when those SEAL guys, when they found out, it was just as bad, if not worse than what was with us. Pretty soon the whole FOB is asking about Smith and what he did and why he did it or where the video is. That's, that's what everyone wants. You know, they all want to see it. But my impression of Smith is that he was a highly narcissistic, prideful person, like many of us are, and myself included. And so when you've built up this character and everyone knows you by this character and then suddenly you have one of these flaws, it's shattering to you. And so I remember the first time I met Smith. He was a fucking dick to me. He had already been there for about six months in the unit in Germany before I got there. I was green as could be. He tried to intimidate me in a way that I didn't find all that receptive. And so I immediately didn't like him. He challenged me at the motor pool for some reason because I didn't have my uniform and the standard, which he thought was acceptable. He thought he was the shit, or at least that's what he Tried to impress upon us. After our year long vacation in Afghanistan, we returned back to Germany and then subsequently our unit was deactivated. As soon as we got back, he went to Georgia, I went to Colorado. But a few of my buddies went with him to Fort Benning. And that's where things really started hitting the fan fast for him. He ends up marrying a woman who had at least one other kid with another guy from our unit who he never acknowledged. Smith doesn't seem at all to be bothered by that. And so he gives away his freedom and ultimately his money and everything he owns at least 50% when they end up divorcing a few months after they get back to the States. Then one night he is drinking and he's driving. He gets pulled over and he decides to run. However, he was drinking in the car and ends up leaving the beer can he was using. So while he got away, his DNA was left on the beer and he ends up being demoted. Gets in trouble for drinking and driving and then running away from a scene. Shortly afterwards, he tries to commit suicide by jumping off a building. I think he only breaks a few bones and I'm not entirely sure if he ends up getting out honorably or dishonorably, but he ends up leaving the military and he's still living now with his ex wife and I think now they're in Kentucky somewhere. About a year and a half after I get out of the army, I get a phone call from a friend. He says, have you heard? Said, have I heard about what? Have you heard about Smith? No. And he says, Smith's dead. He was arrested for childhood abuse. It wasn't sexually, but it was physically and it was about to go to trial. He ends up killing himself before he has to face the consequence of his actions. And I remember getting off the phone with my friend and feeling as though I may have played a part in his ultimate demise, letting him down. Because while I may not have liked Smith, the army doesn't care my opinion, I should have still respected him as a soldier and as a human being. Friedrich Nietzsche, the German philosopher, he has a quote that says, those who fight monsters should be wary. They do not become a monster in the process. For when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you. And thinking about that quote, it sums up my time in Afghanistan perfectly. Because we were monsters. We were trained to be monsters. The doctrine from higher, the memos from Petraeus and the others, they may have believed that they were leading us to a hearts and minds mentality, but we went to Afghanistan to destroy. We weren't there to build or to create or to foster goodwill. And so when we couldn't do the things we were designed to do, we ultimately turned on each other. And unfortunately for Smith, he was the primary target. He was one of us. He was someone we should have loved and respected, not for the person, but for the uniform he wore and for the oath he swore. We failed him. We failed each other for not correcting each other when we saw him being harassed, when other people asked about him and laughed at him. We perpetuated that story so that he didn't have any hope left. He was certainly in hell. He had no one to turn to. He was far from any sort of family he could confide in. We made sure that no friends of his would feel comfortable knowing him or hanging out with him. We all let him down. I could make excuses on me being young or ignorant or arrogant, but I let him down. I let his family down. Because he did not come home as a full person, as he may have deployed. He came back changed forever because the brothers that he had sworn to defend the country with didn't consider him a brother, didn't consider him a person worth knowing or caring about. He was. He was fucked. I remember hanging up the phone and sitting there and looking out the window. I thought about that angry kid I was when I first joined the army, so obsessed with killing. And I remember thinking that Smith was the first person I killed. It wasn't a bad guy. It was Smith. And I still feel that way. Little Namiboy is coming home from bfb. We have a bunch of purple flowers to decorate to NAMI's Hero Morning in the Everdrome the weather warm he's colder for her men in uniform to carry home My little soldier what pretty do.
