War and Coffee

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For me, war and coffee go hand in hand. I simply cannot have one without thinking of the other.

“Dacia, do you mean war figuratively?”

No, I mean war in the very literal sense of the word. More specifically, coffee reminds me of the war on terrorism and Iraq.

Before I get too far ahead of myself, let me add that I have always loved the smell of coffee. My dad’s parents both drank it constantly and throughout their day. The smell of coffee and cigarettes was a staple of childhood. Strangely enough I did not learn how to drink coffee until well into my twenties. I find myself, even today, modifying the potion with the latest trend in sweeteners. The nostalgia it brings now does not take me back to my grandparent’s small house in Henderson, Kentucky. It takes me to a place of horror and self-discovery; of trauma and…

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One thought on “War and Coffee”

  1. Reminds me of my own trip to that lovely place, in 2008. I didn’t go to Baghdad, and I didn’t work in the on-post ER, but my tour was only slightly less dramatic.

    My unit was assigned to Camp Bucca, in Southern Iraq. Located very near the border with Kuwait, it was the largest of what was known as Theater Internment Facilities.

    My job was detainee med. I was part of a team of Medics who’s job it was to provide day-to-day medical care to Iraqi detainees. It was…challenging.

    We took care of insurgents in what amounted to a prison environment, and we did it well. We had to smile in the faces of our enemies on a daily basis, as they tried to find new and inventive ways to kill each other and try to kill us.

    Two things kept me sane through all of that: coffee and cigarettes. Since then, I’ve quit smoking, but I’m still very hooked on coffee.

    Liked by 1 person

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