RED: Remember Everyone Deployed

I spent 18 months in Iraq as a contractor.

That's not the same as being a soldier. I know that. I wore different clothes, had different rules, came home on a different timeline. But I was there. I saw what I saw. I worked alongside people who were doing the hardest thing they'd ever do in their lives.

At SOCOM, I learned the term RED. Remember Everyone Deployed. It's a simple phrase. It's also a weight you carry.

What It Means to Remember

Right now, as you read this, there are Americans forward deployed in places most people couldn't find on a map. Some are military. Some are contractors. Some are government civilians who raised their hand for a hardship tour. They're doing the job while the rest of us go about our lives.

They miss birthdays. They miss anniversaries. They miss their kids' first steps and their parents' last days. They eat bad food and sleep in uncomfortable places and deal with things they can't talk about when they get home.

RED means we don't forget that. Not when it's inconvenient. Not when there's no war on the news. Not when it's been years since the last flag-draped coffin made the front page.

The Ones Who Come Back Different

Some people come home and pick up where they left off. Most don't.

Deployment changes you. It's not always dramatic—not everyone has nightmares or flashbacks. But you see the world differently after you've been somewhere that wasn't safe. You notice things you didn't notice before. You have less patience for things that don't matter. You have more appreciation for things that do.

I came back with a different sense of what's worth worrying about. Traffic and deadlines and office politics seem smaller when you've been somewhere people were trying to kill you. That perspective is a gift, in a way. But it can also make it hard to relate to people who've never been there.

Remember everyone deployed includes remembering them when they come home. The transition isn't easy. The VA is overwhelmed. Employers don't always understand. Families don't always understand. Some people struggle for years.

The Ones Who Didn't Come Back

I knew people who didn't make it home.

I'm not going to tell their stories. Those belong to their families. But I think about them. Not every day—life moves on, and that's okay—but enough. Enough to remember that the cost of what we do is real. Enough to remember that every policy debate and budget negotiation and political argument has stakes that are measured in lives.

RED means carrying them with you. Not in a way that breaks you, but in a way that keeps you grounded. This work matters. The missions matter. The people matter.

Why I'm Writing This

Merlin System Solutions works with defense and intelligence customers. That's not just a business decision. It's personal.

I've been on the receiving end of what good support looks like and what bad support looks like. I've seen missions succeed because someone back home did their job right. I've seen missions struggle because someone cut corners or didn't understand what was at stake.

When we build systems, when we harden infrastructure, when we help teams ship software faster and more securely—there's a reason behind it. Somewhere, someone is depending on this stuff working. Someone who's away from their family, doing something hard, trusting that the tools and systems they're given will do what they're supposed to do.

That's who we work for. Not just the contracting officer or the program manager. The person at the end of the line who needs it to work.

Remember

If you've served, thank you. If you've deployed, I see you. If you've lost someone, I'm sorry. If you're still out there right now, stay safe and come home.

And if you've never been, that's okay too. You don't have to have been there to remember. You just have to care enough to not forget.

RED.

Remember Everyone Deployed.