Transcript
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Dan Kennedy (1:31)
Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. This podcast is brought to you by stamps.com with your busy schedule, we're sure making trips to the post office is the last thing you have time for. Did you know with stamps.com you can buy and print official US postage right from your own computer and printer? It's easy and convenient. Plus stamps.com will give you a digital scale. It automatically calculates the exact postage you need for any letter or package. You print the postage directly onto envelopes, labels, or even plain paper. Then just hand your mail to your mail carrier. There's no need for you to go to the post office again or even lease one of those expensive, expensive postage meters. Right now there's a special offer for listeners of the Moth podcast. A no risk trial plus a $110 bonus offer that includes the digital scale and up to $55 free postage. Don't wait. Go to stamps.com and click on the microphone at the top of the homepage. Then type in moth. That's stamps.com Enter moth. The story you're about to hear by Sebastian Younger was told live at a mainstage event. The theme of the night was eyewitness stories from the front. The story also appears in the moth's first book, which will be released on September 3. Here's Sebastian live in New York at the players club in 2012.
Sebastian Junger (3:08)
I first went to war when I was 31. I grew up in a wealthy suburb. I spent my twenties writing short stories and trying to wait tables. And I got to 30. And I guess the best way to say it is I didn't feel like a man. I didn't feel like I was a man. And I thought war would be exciting and intense and that it would transform me in some way. And so I got a backpack and I put a sleeping bag in it and some notebooks and pens and a few thousand dollars. And I went to Bosnia during the civil war, to Sarajevo, to try to learn to be a war reporter. And war was all those things that I thought it would be. I mean, the thing about war is it does not disappoint, but it's also way more than you bargained for. For example, this the first time I saw a dead body. It wasn't a fighter. Most of the people die in wars are civilians. And it was in Kosovo during the civil war. It was a girl, 16, 17 years old. But I always imagined that she was probably really beautiful. She'd been taken by Serb paramilitary forces, and they took her up to a field above a town called Suareka, and they did whatever they did to her, and then they cut her throat. And when I saw her, it was a couple weeks later. It was summer, it was hot. And the only way you could tell she was a girl, or really even the only way you could tell she was human was that you could still see the red fingernail polish on her fingernails. And that girl stayed with me for a while. She was more than I bargained for. I remember the first time I got ready to die, prepared myself to die. I was in Sierra Leone during the civil war. And I'd been out at the front lines, and it was getting pretty bad out there. And I tried to get back to Freetown, and I got in a jeep with a few Sierra Leonean soldiers who really weren't good for much, and another couple of journalists. And we were driving down this empty road back towards Freetown, and these rebels stepped out of the jungle in front of us with their guns leveled at us. And we came to a stop, and we just stared straight ahead while they argued about whether to kill us. And I tried to get ready. I was hollow. I was numb. And I didn't have any grand thoughts. I just kept thinking, I hope this doesn't Hurt. That's all I thought. And the guns were pointed at us. And you never see a gun like this. But I could see the little black hole that the bullet comes out of. You know, at one point, a guy racked his gun and started to shoot. And another guy grabbed the barrel and jerked it up. I mean, it was like that for 15 minutes. Well, all these little black holes are staring at us. And I thought, there's eternity inside those holes. And they're so small, the thickness of a pencil. And eternity is in there. And I couldn't look at them. I couldn't bring myself to look at them. For some reason, they didn't kill us. And we drove back to Freetown and I kept going back for more. I kept going to more wars. I felt like there was something, something I needed to understand about war that I didn't understand yet. And I kept looking for it. I kept going back. I remember the first time I froze in combat. You go to war, you think you're going to be brave. If you don't think that, you probably don't go to war. And sometimes you are brave, but then other times you're not. And so this time I was out at a small American outpost in Afghanistan, an outpost called Restrepo. 20 man position up on this ridge. They're getting attacked all the time. And this day was a really quiet, hot day. Nothing was going on. I was leaning against some sandbags and some dirt flew in the side of my face. And what you have to understand about bullets is that they go much faster than the speed of sound. So if someone shoots at you, someone shoots at you from 400 meters, 500 meters. The first thing that happens is you ask yourself, am I getting shot at? Because the sound that bullets make when they go past you is pretty subtle. And then the gunfire arrives a moment later, yes, I am getting shot at. And then everything goes crazy. Well, the bullet, the bullet. A bullet hit two inches from the side of my head and kicked dirt in my face. That's what I had felt. What's the angle of deviation at 500 meters? That gives you 2 inches to the right. You know, what's the math on that angle? You don't even want to think about it. And then it's all you can think about. Well, I was paralyzed. Bullets were coming in, hitting the ground, hitting the sandbags, smacking into everything. I was paralyzed. I was behind some sandbags and our gear was right, right over there, just a few feet away. Cameras, bulletproof vest. We're getting attacked from Three sides, they're coming up into the wire. It's really bad. And we can't get to our gear. There's too much gunfire and I'm paralyzed. And the guy I was working with, Tim Hetherington, photographer, we were on assignment out there. He finally jumps across that gap and he grabs stuff. He throws my camera to me and he throws my bulletproof vest and he grabs his stuff. He's throwing ammo to soldiers because the soldiers are pinned down too. And he gets back and I have my camera in my hand and I start shooting. I start working, and then I'm fine. I'm not scared anymore. Tim. Tim was an amazing photographer and obviously very, very brave. A lot braver than me. But he was also really kind of thoughtful about war. And I remember at one point he said to me, you know, war might be the only situation where young men are free to love each other unreservedly without it being mistaken for something else. That was Tim, and that's why we were working together. We decided to make a documentary about this little outpost. We were going to call it Restrepo. And we were going to spend as much of the deployment as possible in this little spot on this ridge in eastern Afghanistan. So we were going to alternate trips. And I had torn my Achilles on this trip, so I had to go home to kind of heal up. So Tim took the next trip. He was on a combat operation. A week long combat operation up in the mountains on foot. Very bad scene. A lot of guys got killed. A lot of American soldiers got killed and wounded. At one point, the American positions got overrun. They dragged off a wounded American soldier at night, in the middle of a firefight. They got him back, but it was bad out there, way worse than anyone back home really knew, you know. And in the middle of all that, Tim broke his leg. He's at 10,000ft up on the Abasgar with a broken leg. And the platoon is moving down the mountain all night long. And the medic examines his foot and says, well, it's broken and we can't get a medevac and we have to be off this mountain by dawn or we're going to get hammered. Here's to Advil. And Tim knew that if you're not prepared to walk all night on a broken leg for the sake of 30 men, you shouldn't be out there. And he did it. I don't know how, but he did it. He got down off that mountain. So we finished up our deployment and that's how we started to Think of it. Our deployment and the rest of it was okay. The worst was in the beginning, actually, and we started making our film, Restrepo. And the film did really well. It started with this scene that was very. It took me a long time to be able to watch it, actually. I would always close my eyes when it came. It's the scene where I'm riding in a Humvee because I took the next trip after Tim broke his leg. I'm riding in a Humvee, and all of a sudden, everything goes orange and black, and the Humvee got blown out. It went off under the engine block, though, instead of under us. So we lived. And that whole rest of the day, I was just on this crazy, jagged high. I mean, there's nothing like not getting killed to crank you up. It's incredible. And that night, I just sank. I spiraled down into this black hole. War is a lot of things. It's incredibly exciting, and I hate to put it that way, but I'm not up here to lie to you. It's really exciting and it's really scary, and it's really intense, and it's really meaningful, but it's also incredibly sad. And sadness is a kind of delicate emotion that's easily trampled by other feelings. And that night, I got in touch with the sadness of the whole thing. Politics aside, just the fact that people are doing this to each other, it crushed me. And that sadness lasted exactly until the next time we got shot at. Then I was back in the game. But I had the camera rolling when we got blown up. And that bit of footage, I could not bring myself to watch because when I tried to watch it, my heart rate went to 180. Just couldn't do it. But we put that in the beginning of the movie, and the movie came out, and it did really well. And Tim and I were just on this amazing ride, you know, it was incredible. But the Arab world is in flames now, right? This is a little more than a year ago, the Arab Spring. Just this incredible, incredibly important upheaval in the world. And Tim and I were dying to get back to work, to get back out there. You know, we're journalists. We decided to go to Libya to cover the civil war in Libya. At the last minute, I couldn't go. And Tim went on his own. And on April 20th last year, I got the news through the Internet, on Twitter, actually, which is a way I hope I never get bad news again, that my good friend Tim had been killed in the city of Misrata, an 81 millimeter mortar had come in and hit a group of fighters and journalists in Misrata and killed and wounded a bunch of them. And Tim was hit in the groin and he bled out in the back of a pickup truck, back of a rebel pickup truck racing for the Misuratta hospital. And I felt nothing. I was hollow again. Just like in that jeep in Sierra Leone when I was waiting to see if I was going to die. Completely hollow. I felt bad that I didn't feel bad. I was in shock. I mean, I realized later I was in shock. And, you know, it spares you for a little while the things you're going to have to feel later. In the middle of that, that awful day, I got an email from a Vietnam vet that I'd met in Texas. And Tim had met him too, and he'd really liked Restrepo and he'd been through a lot of bad stuff and he read my book and Tim's book and he just liked our work. And he sent me an email and he said, sebastian, I'm so sorry about Tim, but I have to tell you something. It might sound callous, but I gotta tell you, you guys with your books and your movie, you came very close to understanding the truth about war. But you didn't get all the way. The core reality of war isn't that you might get killed out there. It's that you're guaranteed to lose your brothers. And in some ways, you guys didn't understand the first thing about war. And now, Sebastian, you've lost a brother and you understand everything there is to know about it. And he was right. It wasn't callous. It's the truth. The truth can't be callous. And now I know the truth about war. And I'm never going back again. Thank you.
