Iliad Schmiliad

At my new(ish) FOB, we get incoming rockets and mortars often.  This camp's nickname is "Rocket City."  Some Talib or some such will lob in a round and our radar will pick it up.  What's supposed to happen is that the radar detects it in flight and triggers the warning system to give people some time to get in bunkers or seek other cover.  What's supposed to happen has only happened once that I can recall.  The three short bursts of the siren went off and the "Giant Voice" reported "INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!" in its monotone/slightly robotic manner and four seconds later there was a BOOM!  That was just enough time to start making a move for cover, but not enough to get there.

That's what's supposed to happen.  What usually does happen though is that the radar doesn't detect the projectile or it doesn't trigger the warning system.  Thus our notification is all backwards.  We'll hear a BOOM! or THWUMP! and then five minutes later, the siren and Giant Voice go off.  Even though the danger has passed, we have to go to the bunkers and wait the 5-30 minutes it takes to hear the Giant Voice tell us "ALL CLEAR! EMERGENCY TERMINATED! RESUME OPERATION ACTIVITIES OR RECOVERY AT THIS TIME! ALL CLEAR!"

Since, a) even if you hear the siren before the impact there's not enough time to get to the bunker, and b), the vast majority of the time, the round landed some time before, there's not a huge sense of urgency to get to the bunker.  Especially when it's the middle of the day and you must leave your air-conditioned office to swelter in the 120+ degree heat.

"INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!" wailed away the other day.  I got up from my desk and headed for the door, but paused, turned back around, and grabbed a book off the desk so I'd have something to do other than stare at the gravel floor of the bunker.  I'm not much for the jabbering of the tradesmen who filter into the bunker.

To most, if not all, the fact that my favorite book is The Iliad is slightly to completely pretentious.  I know this.  Doesn't change the fact it's my favorite book.  I've several editions to include the Lattimore paperback I first read in college to my prized hardback Everyman's Library Fitzgerald.  I bought the Fitzgerald at a bookstore outside of San Francisco when my brother and I were doing a roadtrip after I'd completed my 19 week Field Artillery Officer Basic Course in November of 2001.  I knew I was heading off to Germany and thence to war, be it in Afghanistan or Iraq (indeed, the first question I asked my commander when I arrived in Bamberg was when we were going to Iraq; invasion was fairly obvious from the moment of 9/11).

I've carried my worn, salmon-colored, cloth-bound Fitzgerald all over the world.  Alexander the Great not only took a copy of The Iliad with him as he conquered the known world, but slept with it under his pillow.  I don't sleep with it under my pillow, but I have carried it to five continents.  It'll be with me when I get to the other two.  Every year or two I'll read it afresh.  This past year in Afghanistan, I've not put a complete reading in, but have gone in fits and starts.  My bookmark is halfway through.  

Thus it was that I sat on the bench in the bunker and opened up my tome of grisly killings.  I'd barely made it a few lines (for those who do not know, The Iliad is a poem) when an hispanic tradesman (plumber/carpenter/electrician or some such) said, "Wow. You read all that so far?"

"Oh yes," I said, offhandedly, "though not all at once.  I've been picking my way through it."

"You must read a lot. What book is it?"

"The Iliad," I said to unmistakable incomprehension.

"Oh," he said, clearly not interested but wanting to carry on the conversation, "what's it about?"

I'm always struck when people have absolutely no idea about such things, even if I understand that I'm rather peculiar in my love of classics.  I tried to frame it in a way that would get across, in a facile way, my interest.

"It's the foundation of Western Literature," I said.  His eyes glazed at the word "literature."  (I don't consider Gilgamesh western lit; I don't have a particular reason why other than I refuse to cede the title to someone other than Homer).

I regrouped.

"It's about the Trojan war."  Surely that would spark some comprehension.  Nope.  I got the cow gaze.

"Um. It's about ancient warfare between the Greeks and Trojans.  It has fighting and heroes.  Helen of Troy.  Achilles..."

If I were a comedian, this would be called "bombing."

"Um, you've heard of The Odyssey?" I offered.  

"Nope."

"Sure you have.  You know...Odysseus.  The cyclops..."  I was struggling.  It was not working.

"Oh, yeah. Maybe," he offered out of pity.

"Anyway," I said, "it's my favorite book.  It's got gods and heroes and fighting."

"Yeah. That sounds good, I guess.  But I wouldn't pick it up.  Not with a name like The Iliad, you know?"

I tried to be amenable.  "Oh sure. I can understand that."  I couldn't really.

His attitude subtly went from trying to be agreeable to being condescending to the egghead.  Maybe I'd somehow unconsciously put out the vibe first.  I've no idea.

"How'd you even hear of that?"

"Well, like I said it's the foundation...my dad's a college English professor and when I was little he'd tell me stories from Greek mythology and Beowulf and..."

I didn't tell him that I met Robert Fitzgerald when I was a small child.  THAT clearly would have been lost on him.  His eyes glazed again and he looked away and semi-smiled to himself.

"Oh. A dork" was the conclusion that I read unmistakeably on his face.

About that time, we got "ALL CLEAR! EMERGENCY TERMINATED! RESUME OPERATION ACTIVITIES OR RECOVERY AT THIS TIME! ALL CLEAR!"

He gave me an awkward nod of his head and got up.  I awkwardly nodded and went back to my office.

http://www.amazon.com/Iliad-Everymans-Library-Classics-Contemporary/dp/0679410759