"Father Soldier Son" a Documentary of the Long Aftermath of War

Isaac, Brian and Joey Eisch

This week my son Nigel and I watched a documentary titled “Father Soldier Son.” The movie follows Sergeant First Class Brian Eisch on a combat deployment to Afghanistan and the tragedy his life became over the decade that followed. When I watched the movie, I remembered reading about Eisch getting wounded.  I read about the deployment the First Battalion-87^th Infantry in the New York Times in 2010-11.

Jim Dao, then the war correspondent for the Times, spent several months in Afghanistan following the unit from the beginning of the deployment to end. He told harrowing stories of soldiers killed and wounded during the deployment and their lives at war.

Eisch loved being a soldier and being a Dad.  Eisch was the single Dad of two sons, Isaac and Joey, ages ten and six in 2010. Eisch went to Afghanistan thinking he would resume his life when he returned. That meant moving up in his Army career and resuming hunting, fishing, camping and all the things he and his sons did together. 

From the stories, I sort of remembered who was one of those wounded, he had been hit in both legs by machine gun fire. The movie continued the story I had read a decade ago. His left leg had severe damage, but Eisch tried to recover. After two years, he pain got so bad that he agreed to amputation below the knee. 

As Eisch fell further and further into depression over his leg, his career ended and his life stalled. He met and eventually married a woman who loved and cared for him, but for a long time after he lost his leg, Eisch spent most of his time playing video games and avoiding his family. He had to leave the Army and said his life no longer had direction.

Just when Eisch’s life began to get better, then the younger of his two sons, Joey, was killed while riding his bicycle near their home. 

In 2018 when Isaac turned 18 and graduated high school, he joined the Army and became a paratrooper. 

The movie is really well done and sad.  I usually avoid watching documentaries because I worked in media and I am suspicious of visual media that tries to inform or educate.  But this documentary is so well done, I got lost in the story. The smart-ass critic in my head was silent.

If you want to know some of the cost of our endless wars, this movie shows how difficult life can be for returning soldiers.  The original articles are also available on the New York Times web site.  Dao’s reporting goes into much more depth on the combat missions in Afghanistan. 

When Walking I Don't Get Angry: Cycling is Different

Slowly healing. 

Today I saw the surgeon who put my arm back together with plates and screws  and considerable skill.  Tomorrow I begin a more sadistic physical therapy with pulleys to get more range of motion from my shattered elbow.

Three times during the visit, the doc said I should ride. I have enough range of motion in my arm to ride.

But during my three-mile walk home from the visit I had another moment of the making the contrast between bicycling and walking as exercise.  More than half the time I ride, someone in a vehicle--most often a plus-sized redneck in a pickup truck--will swerve at me or just pass too close. Occasionally he will yell faggot (women never do these things, only men).  A few times I have been hit with bottles and cans or got a "rollin' coal" cloud of smoke from a diesel pickup.

And I get angry.

Only rarely can I do anything about it. Once more than 15 years ago I got the license plate of a guy who threw tacks in the road because he hated us so much much. 

I have walked in hundreds of miles since surgery and no one has swerved at me, thrown tacks in the road, spit, called me a faggot, or any of the other things that have happened to me only in America and mostly on rural roads. 

So now I am really thinking about how much I want to ride.  I live in a rural area with lots of pickup trucks.  Do I want to return to getting pissed off at the pathetic cowards who think bicyclists don't belong on "their" roads? 

It's a question I never asked before. I love cycling so much that I thought the anger was part of riding. But knowing that I can walk and challenge myself makes the world look different. What is inner peace worth?  I will be asking myself that.

Slow Walk Up My Fastest Descent

S-Curve at the top of Prospect Hill

This afternoon I walked up and down the hill on Prospect Road between Columbia Pike to Marietta Pike in western Lancaster County.  After riding thirty years in 37 countries and descending miles-long hills all over the world, it was on this short, steep descent south toward Columbia Pike that I went the fastest I have ever ridden: 59.5 mph.  

It is the right kind of hill to go fast. Although the hill is short, it is steepest and straight at the bottom.  Other times I have been over 55mph it is always on hills that have a 15% or more grade near the bottom of the hill. Prospect Road is 16% at the steepest point. But the other factor in going 59mph was the S-Curve at the top and the 1980s Bronco that passed me on the way into the turn. 

The big, old Ford SUV has the aerodynamic profile of a brick so when he went past, I pedaled like crazy to stay near him. He had to slow in the second turn so I could stay with him. As we exited the turn, he stomped the gas and pulled away. If he stayed anywhere near the legal speed, I would have to be on the brakes. But he went way over the 35mph speed limit so could get sucked along in his draft. I could hear the spokes sing, so I knew I was flying.

When I stopped, the max speed indicator in my computer said 59.5 mph.  At this point, it looks like a lifetime record.  I have descended miles-long hills in the Alps, the Pyrenees, the Rockies, the Berkshires, Israel, the Republic of Georgia, and in Macedonia. But length does not matter for max speed, only grade percentage and wind direction--and a good draft. 

Lancaster County, Corn, Corn, Corn

Looking up Prospect Hill

Looking up at the steepest section of the hill, near the bottom