I went to a late dinner today, after a long bike ride. As I sat in the DFAC, eating some pretty darned good stuffed peppers with three of my co-workers, I had a moment of clarity.

“What do you like about being deployed?” I asked of SGT Evans, a fresh-faced, multiply-tattooed 22-year old, who by the end of 2008 will have spent well over two-thirds of his life in Iraq since turning 20 years old. I have always suspected that Evans enjoys being deployed, and he confirmed this today, citing as deployment’s positives the general freedom, the opportunity to do the job for which he was trained (medic) and the fact that he saves money while he is overseas (there is little to spend it on here).

“But,” he added, after finishing the list above, “the best thing about deployment by far is the people that you meet. What other situation allows you to meet and become friendly with Ugandans, Indians, Iraqis, Pakistanians, Australians, Brits, Canadians, and Americans from every state? And during deployment, you really get to know and bond with the people who are actually working with you every day, like you guys.”

It was at this point that I realized that being deployed here in Iraq is a lot like Boy Scout camp, albeit with the notable exceptions that deployment lasts a lot longer, and there are people just outside of our “camp” who are trying to kill us. Most of us have had the experience of going to scout camp (or Brownies, Girl Scouts, young women’s camp, whatever), and not really wanting to go, not knowing anyone there very well, and possibly even not liking very much the people who are stuck there with you. But then stuff happens that brings you together: your canoe overturns and everybody has a good laugh, or someone gets injured and the others come together to help them out, or you just talk around the fire; all of these experiences bind the group together. It’s been my experience that it is very hard to truly dislike any person whom I get to know beyond just a superficial level. And it is easy to like them, to admire some aspect of their personality, to empathize with their unique story.

And then, there are the shared experiences. Today, as I rode my bike out on the flight line with a couple of my colleagues, one of them slowed down and pointed backwards, in the direction from which we had just come. Behind us was a breathtaking sight: the sun had acquired an enlarged, sort-of wavy appearance as it sank low behind a bank of clouds, with the mysterious Al Asad “pyramids” in the foreground, along with some signal towers and some large, beautiful planes. That is a sight which could not be seen anywhere else but on a military base in Iraq. This particular military base, in fact.

I do not imagine that there will be a time after I get home when I will sit and pine for my deployed days. There is much about being here which is unenjoyable, or simply not distinctive in any way, and therefore not memorable. But I will remember moments like that one, and I will remember the people with whom I have shared those moments.