It's easy to imagine 21-year-old UAF freshman Zach Olson prowling around Iraq with a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder; he just looks the part. But today, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, he's dressed nothing like a soldier.

Olson was dressed for a memorial in Palmer for a fellow soldier, Sgt. Kurtis Arcala, who was killed in Iraq. Arcala was a friend with whom Olson had gone to high school and even played with on the soccer team. Arcala died Sept. 10 when his convoy hit a roadside bomb in Balad, Iraq.

Olson returned in February from his unit, Alpha Company 118, stationed in Iraq. He and Arcala had plans to get together when Arcala came home on leave in October. The meeting at his memorial service was not the reunion they had planned.

Now Olson is enrolled in the EMS program at UAF, hoping to one day become a firefighter. School has been going good so far, he said.

"I have to play catch-up a little, I feel like I'm having to work a lot harder than the other students." That's mostly cause he took a three-year break from school, Olson said. He's noticed that the little things like studying and writing are more difficult. The military is paying Olson's tuition, providing he maintains a 2.0 GPA.

Although he only spent one year in Iraq the memories will last him a lifetime. His daily routine consisted of "prepping for battle, including contingency plans, field testing weapons, and practicing strategies, so when it came down to it, everything was second nature," Olson said. "The hardest part was going on raids, through people's houses," he said. "We're supposed to win the hearts of the children, and here we are going through their house, searching for high-value target insurgents, possibly arresting an uncle or even their father, it's hard."

"Most of the adults already had already made up their minds and weren't changing it no matter what, but the kids, if the kids liked us, that gave us hope."

"They could say the word chocolate pretty well," Olson said. They gave handshakes to the men, and smiles all the time, "portraying happiness is very important," he said. "There was one kid who was so cute, I almost pulled the Humvee over to give him some chocolate. He was smiling and waving. Then all of a sudden, he took a dump in his left hand, threw it at me, and gave me the bird."

"It's hard, one day to be shot at, the next day to go out with smiles. Its hard, some guys had trouble with it."

There was another enemy-an unforeseen enemy-that they had to deal with constantly: the language barrier. "After being over there for a while you recognize some of the locals. Some would be friendly, come up to you talking, smiling, giving the thumbs up. Once you started learning their language a little better, you realized he was talking about sleeping with your mother and punching you in the face." Learning their culture and language is vital for a soldier, Olson said. "Some Iraqis try so hard, they take you into their home, make you their brother, bend over backward to show you they want you there. Everything about the family deals with respect, only waving with your right hand, only eating with your right hand, never raising your feet when you sit, little things that mean a lot to them."

This brotherhood with the people is never shown in the news, he said. "We hate the news. They misreport a lot of stuff, they change how it happened. It's very political." Most of the Iraqi's, in his eyes, were happy the U.S. is there. "Most insurgents aren't from Iraq. The local people are afraid of what's going to happen when we leave. Some Iraqi's will even tell you where the insurgents are." The most important people to get to know are the sheikhs, the tribal leaders, Olson said. Once in their good graces the goodwill goes down to all their underlings. Getting into their good graces, however, is the tricky part. "You have to barter with them, give a little, take a little," Olson said. "It's pretty obvious when soldiers and commanders don't work with the sheikhs, it causes friction."

Partway through his time in Iraq, Olson was one of the soldiers chosen to help train the Iraqi army. This requirement was something that really changed his outlook on the Iraqi people. "Before training the (Iraqi) army, I hated 'em, all of them. I wanted to turn the entire place into glass. We try to be open-minded, but when a friend dies it's tough to see through it. Maybe 80 percent like us and 20 percent don't, or maybe less, I don't know, but you can't hate everyone just because of the minority."

Being with the Iraqi army gave Olson a new appreciation for his Iraqi brothers. Their army is very comparable to our firefighters, he said. "It's very family oriented, they join as a family, and even if a brother, father, or son dies, they stay the course. They love their country."

Olson said that in Iraq, the U.S. soldiers are almost scared to come home, whether or not they agree with the war. It's like you're "betraying your brothers," he said. Instead they find ways to cope with being away from home. Olson had three puppies and their mother in his barracks. Although animals are not permitted on base, their superiors know that they are a morale booster and allow them to stay. Olson felt like these pups were his family, and whenever he came back from a mission, they'd run up to him, smiling and wagging their tails. When the dogs got older and more physically able, they would run alongside his Humvee and stay with him out in the field. At first he was hesitant, then he realized all the positive aspects. "It could hear the mortars far before we could, and they'd look to where they were coming from." Using the dogs acute senses of hearing and smelling the soldiers were able to find insurgents they might not have otherwise.

Everything is different since his return, Olson said, his entire outlook on life has changed.

"I don't really take things for granted anymore, food tastes better, warmth feels warmer, friends and family are much more important. I've learned to appreciate every little thing." Olson had some words of wisdom that he now lives by: "Worse thing you can do is not lay it on the line, you may never get another chance. Don't ask 'what if?'"

After leaving Iraq and arriving at a Texas airport, he was greeted with applause, handshakes, and thank yous. "Parents who didn't even know me would have their children come up and stand next to me for pictures." This was huge to him, to have support from people he didn't know, to know that although he may not have agreed with the army's initial intentions, he's got encouragement from home.

"This war is a whole bunch of bullshit," Olson said. "It needed a reason to be made up, but regardless, I believe in freeing the people. They should have the same rights as us." Asked if he would ever go back, Olson said, "If I had the choice, hell no, not for $5 million, not for $20 million. It's good for some people, just not for me. A lot of troops don't support the war, but those troops need to be supported from home."

Photocourtesy of Zach Olson
Zach Olson stands guard while in his compound in Iraq.

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