War is Hell, But at Least We Have Video Games

Image: Epic Games/Microsoft Gaming

By Private 1st Class Benjamin Dunn, Multi-National Force

Holy cow, guys. You won’t believe this — we’ve got three Xbox 360s just three tents over. Christmas came early!

Gaming out here has become a way to escape, a brief reprieve from the chaos around us. When everything else feels out of control, losing yourself in a game offers a sense of stability. The rules are clear, the stakes manageable, and for a moment, the world outside fades.

First Sergeant Wilson tried banning the consoles, claiming they were “too violent.” It’s funny to think soldiers in Iraq find anything excessive. Reality here often outdoes even the most brutal games.

Back home, gaming was part of normal life. My kid, Blake, spent hours mastering Super Mario Galaxy. My neighbor and I would team up on Xbox Live, while work meant heated NBA 08 tournaments. Those moments felt light and carefree, reminders of a different world.

I think about Blake often, wondering when I’ll see him again. His laugh when he hit a new high score is something I hold onto. It’s a sound I can’t let slip away. Speaking of games, have you seen the graphics on these new titles?

When Gears 2 dropped, the whole squad lit up. Even Lieutenant General Woodward joined in, trading battlefield tactics for virtual ones. Watching him celebrate a head shot brought an odd comfort, a rare glimpse of camaraderie we all needed.

Woodward had his share of challenges off-screen, too. A week after that session, snipers ambushed him. He survived, but situations like that make you realize how thin the line is between entertainment and reality.

The Gears 2 campaign became a lifeline during tough stretches. Its stunning visuals and gripping story offered a momentary escape from things like the Seventh Infantry bombing last month. That incident, a tragic mix-up, keeps replaying in my mind. “Fog of war” is the term they use, but it doesn’t capture the weight it leaves behind.

Epic Games has been rolling out amazing DLC lately. Unfortunately, our satellite dish disappeared recently. Locals took it, and it’s unlikely we’ll see it again. We adapt. Out here, there’s no other choice.

Yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to explore the new maps. Something more pressing came up. A Kurdish kid was tampering with a tower. His face had an uncanny resemblance to Blake’s. For a moment, I hesitated, but decisions here don’t allow for much reflection. Actions like that stay with you long after the moment has passed.

As 2008 winds down, I find myself thinking more about what’s been lost, both here and at home. Every day, the boundary between the digital and the real seems harder to discern. Maybe that’s why it’s easier to stay focused on what’s right in front of us.

Anyway, I better get going. Think I hear gunfire, or maybe it’s the squad launching another round of Gears. Either way, it’s time to move. ■

The US Army has assigned Pfc Dunn in Iraq since 2006. He does not live with wife Amanda, 28, or with son Blake, 7.