Happiness

What is happiness? I explain why I don’t think I have ever been truly happy. Let me know what you think it means, and how you have achieved the feeling.

I payed down last night around 11pm, and my mind raced. I thought about my past, and all the things I had accomplished, and all the failure that I have endured. If I was to make a list, it seems they would be even. An even list of the negatives, and positives that I have experienced. I eventually thought about what true happiness was. Had I ever really experienced it? Is it just a perception that we as people label events that we experience? Is it just a fleeting feeling that we have in the moment?

I’m sure it can be all of these things and more. I know I have experienced happy moments in my life. My son being born, and spending time with him. Watching my siblings achieve greatness on many levels. Moments with the person I loved intimately. I think a lot of people tie happiness to pleasure, and yes it probably is associated in one way or another. When does a person achieve true happiness in their day to day life though?

Ive thought about it most of the day today, even as I sit here in the VA chow hall. Are these people around me happy? Not just today, or right now. I guess what I’m getting at is that I don’t know what truly being happy is, or means. I don’t know that I have ever been happy for more then a moment or day. My life has taken so many drastic turns that it is hard to pinpoint a time I was happy longer then a day or two.

I hope one day I will know that I am a happy person, living life, and actually enjoying it. That time is not now. I am getting better in many ways mentally. Finding out more about myself and who I am. I’m not sure I will ever get there or even be able to comprehend what that would feel like. All I can do is try my best. I do know one thing, I want the people I care about to be happy, and experience the world in a pleasurable, meaningful, and happy way.

Tell me what you think happiness means. How do you personally achieve happiness in your daily life? I would surely like to know.

Okieschaos.com

@okieschaos

WillCornell2007@gmail.com

Old Man River Attacks the Hill

A short story about my friend Jason, on our tour in Afghanistan. Jason charges a hill while a friendly base is being attacked. We all thanked the Lord when he returned. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think.

It was another scorcher in the Afghan desert. Well north of 110 degrees this afternoon. So we were all in our air conditioned Alaskan shelters to escape the heat of the day. Dirty, filthy, tired, we were all lazily laying around in our racks. Brett and I had been working on a carpentry project for some of the brass in the CP (Command Post). The two of us would keep busy on the mornings we didn’t have another mission. Usually by building desks or bookshelves. It was our way to pass the time. Working until the heat was unbearable.

Just a normal day for us, evading the heat and upper management. Brett and I were always the first to volunteer for almost any assignment. Accept when it was that hot. So we relaxed and had a movie going on one of our laptops. The other marines in our tent were doing the same. Some were sleeping, others were going over gear or reading dirty magazines. Two of the four squad leaders, who were all sergeants, slept by the door. I was about halfway down on the same side.

Laying there. Half naked, and half asleep. I had my PT shorts on, watching the movie. Then I heard it. The sound of the Sergeant Major yelling. Over and over. “STAND TO! STAND TO! STAND TO!”. This was a pretty common occurrence for us. Each unit had a specific spot to defend the FOB if we were to be attacked. Sometimes it was just a drill. If it was “for real”, it was usually an IED blast that was close, or a pot shot or two.

Brett Surles (Right) Jason Shriner (Center) Bobby Stone (Right)

This time was different. An extremely small Patrol Base that watched the main supply route to India company was under a heavy barrage of small arms fire. We where about four clicks up the road from them. Separated by a large hill with a radio tower on top. The hill was an oddity being the only measurable elevation in sight. It stuck out in the landscape. They were being hit with AK and RPG fire.

In the tents we figured this was just another drill. You know. To inconvenience us lower ranking Marines. I looked over at my squad leader and he hadn’t moved. So I followed his lead. We sat there for about 3 minutes, and the door busted open! Our platoon Sergeant pushed the door open with a crash and started yelling at us to “GET OUR ASSES UP” and “STAND TOO, MEANS YOU STAND TOO MARINES!” I felt like I was in boot camp again. The way he was coming at us. He had a T-Shirt, and shorts on, boots untucked, and had his gear to top off the outfit.

Now i’ll admit I was still moving slow for about the first 30 seconds. I lazily started putting on my pants. Putting them on as he got in my face and yelled “FORGET THAT SHIT! GET YOUR GEAR AND GET OUT THERE!” So I threw on my gear and boots, grabbed my weapon and ran out the door. Marines filing out of the tents in a unorganized gaggle. Half dressed and getting excited now. I could hear the brewing fire fight a few clicks out. I passed a civilian reporter, he yelled “GET SOME MARINES!” That got me going! We hadn’t had a good fight in a month or more.

We ran over behind BAS (Battalion Aid Station), and onto the berm that surrounded the base. Facing out into the dessert. Ready to take on the hoards of the Taliban should they attempt it. That’s when I got that twisted, butterfly feeling in my stomach. It usually comes before a fight. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been in a fight in over a month, I don’t know. I was ready none the less. Sitting there, the feeling starts to go away, and slowest turns into that “this is BS” mentality.

The Firebase called in an air strike over the radio. The jet on station was an A-10 Warthog. It came in low and dropped flares over the enemy first. The Angel formation of the smoke left behind is pretty spectacular. Normally it is enough to strike fear into the screaming fanatics. This time the enemy kept on shooting. The jet was called back, only this time he wasn’t shooting flares. First I heard the engine of the jet come in and then BBBRRRRRRRRRRRRTTT—- BRRRRTTTTT—BRRRTTTT. That’s the sound of the Gatling gun that sits in the nose of the plane, laying hate to the enemy, and chewing up anything the exploding rounds reach.

That got them! Losing their will to fight, the cowards didn’t fire another round. The Sergeant Major called out for all Marines to Stand-Down. I got up and went over to the huddle of engineers that was forming a few meters away. Our squad leader began counting us, so that he could report we where all accounted for. Soon realizing Lance Corporal Jason Shriner wasn’t among us. He sent Brett to the tent in a hurry, to see if he was there. Brett returned after a few minutes and reported that Jason wasn’t there. A few minutes went by with panic brewing. Our squad leader was about to radio in that we had misplaced one of our Marines. Which would be very bad.

When with a giant Shriner smile, He comes trotting up to our now organized formation. Our squad leader yelled “SHRINER, FALL IN!! Then commenced to laying in to the 5’6” skinny Lance Corporal. Asking him where he had been, and why he wasn’t at our boring, but designated spot. Of course his version was much more colorful and lacked the word boring. Jason, now in formation and standing at attention replied “there were some guys running to take the hill! I thought we were attacking so I went with them!” The sergeant just looked at him with a blank stare, reaching for the words to destroy this perplexed Marine. After several seconds of staring, the Sergeant relented. He then gave the command for us to fall out. With that, we all returned to our tents. Asking Jason about his adventure as we walked.

Jason had fearlessly charged the hill with almost no support, looking for a fight! If that doesn’t describe the courage he possessed, then nothing will. Looking back, it could have been a complex disaster, but Jason was alive with a great story to tell. He would have stepped in front of a bullet for any one of us. The higher ups didn’t reprimand him. They just explained why he should have been with us. Realizing they to were at fault for not properly explaining the details.

Jason Shriner (Left) Jason's Brother (Right)

It makes me smile to think back on the work we did. Jason Shriner was one of my closest friends I made while in the Marines. He was 6 years older then me. He claimed the name “Old Man River”. Wearing the title proudly, complete with a tattoo in Japanese on his back. He was a character, and always had a smile on his face. Always projecting positive vibes, even when the situation sucked. Jason battled PTSD and took his own life fall of 2016. Myself and a dozen other Marines flew in to Phoenix, Arizona to attend a service, and spend time with his family.

In memory of Corporal Jason Shriner.

February 20, 1982 – October 17, 2016

I know I will see you when I get to heaven. Guarding its streets with a warm smile.

Okieschaos.com

@okieschaos

Willcornell2007@gmail.com

Finding my Motivation again

I have been lost the last week or so, and I am slowly finding my motivation again.

It has been more and more difficult for me to stay motivated. Depression sets in and it ruins my day. Ive been unmotivated the last week or so, and when I push to get going again I get stuck.

I feel a lot better today. A friend and I went to the Oklahoma Historical Museum in downtown OKC. I went through this museum around a month ago. So there wasn’t much that was new. Accept for one new exhibit that opened. It had 50’s era living, some early wagons and such. It wasn’t as impressive as some of the other experiences that they offer. One of my favorites is the Steamboat exhibit.

The steam boat Heroine is there, or what remains of it. Which isn’t much. The large steel drive shafts, some pieces of the steam engine, and boiler. The boiler was blown apart, and you can see where it gave way and exploded. The boat was traveling up the red river with a load of commodities, headed toward’s fort Townson in southern Oklahoma. It is the oldest steam boat that has been recovered and studied by archeologists.

There is also a exhibit called “Welcome Home- Oklahoman’s and the war in Vietnam. Its a smaller showing, but does have some interesting pieces, including Native American uniforms, testimony from Oklahoma combat Veterans, metals and many other donated pieces from influential Oklahoma Warriors of the era. One thing that stood out was the Huey helicopter simulation. You sit in a seat and have a joy stick, along with a few other buttons that don’t really do much. You fly the helo to a supply drop point, and then have to make it back to the firebase that you left from. Good luck, its tough! I only attempted this first mission, because there were people waiting their turn to have a go. I crashed in a fiery ball and rolled down the side of a mountain when I ran out of fuel.

It was a good outing, and helped to get my mindset back to my mission. I have so many obstacles, that are already apparent to me. I must tell myself what I need to accomplish every day, and work towards it. If I don’t push myself I end up wasting a day and not accomplishing anything.

My last session with my therapist, I told him how I have been down recently, and cant seem to get out of my rut. He told me I should go back and read my own advice on my page. So here I am again! Refreshed and with a full tank. I am ready to start back on my journey. Sometimes we just need to be reminded what we can accomplish and what we have already done.

Okieschaos.com

@okieschaos

Willcornell2007@gmail.com

Dust Storm on the horizon

The sun was low in the sky, we had been in country for over five months. This was probably my fourth haircut. Sitting just outside of the back door to our Alaskan Shelter. I was sitting on a box of MRE’s (Meals ready to eat). Diaz was cutting my hair. I liked it short and usually kept it about a quarter of an inch tall on top. I liked a high fade, and barely any hair on the sides and back of my head. We called this, getting a barracks cut, because they weren’t professional. In fact they usually looked like a blind cat cut your hair.

It was mid-July, and it had been a scorcher. Over 115 degrees. We didn’t do anything today, sat around and watched movies in our air conditioned tent. I usually would spend two to three hours in the gym late at night when it was fairly cool. We were all making jokes about how bad our hair looked, and wondering what the First SGT or SGT MAJ would say about them. They were always on our asses about Proper this and Proper that. It was their job though, so I understand.

The sun was fading by the time Diaz finished cutting my hair. It actually wasn’t to bad this time. I walked around the alaskan shelter, shirtless, and I brushed the hair off of my body as I went. I looked up and there was a wall of sand coming towards us. It hadn’t blocked out the sun yet, but was about too. i had never seen anything like it. It was out of the movie The Scorpion King. When that cloud is chasing the airplane. All I could do was watch it. I ran into the tent excited, and worried at the same time. I yelled for the guys to get out here. Marine after Marine stumbled out of the tent. Asking dumb questions, but when they saw it then stood wide mouthed.

Like idiots we stood there watching it come closer. As fast as a freight train. Laughing that this was it. We were done for. It hit like a tornado. Sandblasting everything. It got dark and hard to breathe. We all fought to get into the Alaskan shelter without the door being ripped off. I finally got through and into the tent. There was dust floating in the air inside! I coughed hard for a few seconds. My body hurt, and was red as a tomato. I had been standing out there without a shirt! Everyone looked like they had been showered in fine yellow/ brown dirt.

It lasted through the night. I woke up and looked around stretching. There was a inch of dirt on everything and everyone inside the shelter. Sighing I got up, and picked up my laptop off the make shift table I had build out of MRE boxes, and a piece of wood. Dumping the dirt into the floor. Brett looked up at me, “Dude, do that outside.” I just turned and started dumping the dirt from the rest of my stuff into the floor. it took us a full day to clean the tent. It was a fun experience!

Excerpt from the chapter “First Contact” of the book I am writing

This is an excerpt from the book I am currently writing. It details My experiences with Marines from 3/6 in operation Moshtarak in the 2010 troop surge. We were dropped into the city of Marjah in the early morning hours. Marjah is a large city in the southern Helmand province of Afganistan.

First Contact

The sun was coming up and it was quiet, only the sound of Marines moving around. We were sitting and waiting for what the day would bring. A few hours earlier we had moved a couple of compounds down the road, closer to our objective.

It was a tall walled compound that was inhabited by a small family. It looked like something from a medieval story. Tall walls made of mud and plaster. The color of our desert camouflage, but darker. The walls all had buildings attached to them, almost all the way around the inner perimeter. It hosted a steel gate as its main entrance, and a small wooden door on an adjacent wall. Just off center, in the middle of the scene was a small outbuilding with a thatch roof. It was the donkeys home.

We hadn’t been shot at yet, but could hear other units trading rounds with the Taliban within ear shot. There were Marines on the roofs of the buildings, leaning against the walls, facing out toward the city of Marjah. The Marines on the opposite side were facing endless poppy fields. The same fields we had landed in the night before. Watching and waiting. It must have been about 2 hours after moving from our last pause. (A pause is the last location we were stopped at with security.)

That’s when I heard it for the first time. The “CRACK” of an AK round as it passes by your head. The hair stood up on my neck and arms. My brain went blank for a moment, and I froze. Then it becomes clear, I was being shot at. Anxiety and excitement filled me, and I got the first shot of real adrenaline. Imagine the most amped up you have ever been.. Then increase it by about 1000. It’s a high, and I have craved it ever since.

A Marine on the wall starts yelling a direction and distance, before he squeezed the trigger. The squad leader on the ground jumped into action. Yelling orders, and directing Marines and their fire.

The radio cracked to life, reporting that there was a group of military aged males with weapons heading our way. The squad in an adjacent building was sent out to close with and destroy the enemy fighters. The intensity of incoming fire started picking up. “Crack, Crack, Crack” every few seconds.

A machine gunner on the wall with his SAW (Squad automatic weapon) started engaging, laying down a wall of hate in controlled bursts. The designated marksman were placing accurate shots on target at the same time.

The squad that was sent out called back by radio requesting the mortar team that was in our compound to get in the fight. They had been sitting with us engineers, waiting to do our thing. The excitement shown on their faces is almost indescribable. They lit up and were yelling “get some” and “oohhraaww” and other things us Marines say.

A RPG (Rocket propelled grenade) went over the compound, leaving a white streak. A split second later a second followed it “whooosshhh”, both crashing in a field behind the compound. The mortar team set up their tube. Just the tube, baseplate, and sight. With a marine acting as the bipod.

They dropped a round down the tube, and “bang”. You could watch the round fly upward for what seemed 100s of feet before it disappeared into the sky. Several seconds go by before the boom. The Marines in the field radio back congratulating the mortarman, and told them to fire for affect.

The confidence of the mortar team was obvious to me. Not using a bipod on the first mission of the deployment, and to hit the target was a long stretch. They shouted more “oohhraaahs” and “Semper Gumby’s”, before dropping three more rounds on the Taliban’s heads.

If you enjoyed this piece of my book please let me know! I would love to hear your comments and constructive criticisms. Also please feel free to share with your friends or anyone who would enjoy my writing. My stories are from a very prominent time in my life and it’s therapeutic for me to put them into words. Though it is very hard at times, I really enjoy discussing the things I have been through. So, again. Please Like, Comment, and Share!

Why I decided to start this page

Overcoming, anxiety, depression, and PTSD.

I started this blog to share my experiences. All my life I have had trouble expressing feelings, and emotions. I didn’t learn in my youth that it was ok to feel things other then anger. If i got in trouble I would instantly bottle it up and shove it into that dark corner in my brain. What I have run into in my mid-20s, is that there is only so much space in that storage room in the back of the brain.

When it gets full it all tries to come up at once, and that’s when I get in trouble. As I mentioned. I didn’t know (and am still learning) how to process emotions like fear, sadness, and remorse. You see in my family we didn’t sit down at a dinner table. My siblings were all 10 years younger then me. I was the experiment kid. If I wasn’t doing well in school, I got punished. But with my siblings, my parents would sit down and work the problem out with them. If they did something bad, they would be told why it was bad. I would usually just get yelled at, and grounded. It has really stuck with me through the years. The Marine Corp just built on that same principle. You weren’t aloud to show fear or weakness. There was no room for it. If you were weak you would die.

All these things have culminated into my inability to process emotion like a normal person. As a result I experience Anxiety, depression and PTSD. I am currently at a VA hospital attending a Intensive outpatient program for PTSD and prescription drug abuse. I am learning to cope with my issues and combat their symptoms in a healthy way.

In this blog I will be sharing helpful advice for people like me. War stories and excerpts from my book. I will ask for critics, and your opinions. I am very excited about this whole thing and starting a new chapter of my life, while being able to share it here!

Marjah, Afganistan. We built a custom blackjack table. 2010