5 years ago

I remember sitting in a chow hall at base in the middle of the Jordanian dessert. The TVs were tuned to Fox news, we were watching the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I honestly thought that our Unit wouldn't go in. Little did I know, less than 6 weeks later, I would be in Baghdad. And I will take part in this chapter of World History.

I really wanted to believe we were doing something good for the world. I am not so sure anymore. But those were my intentions. Right now, I really hope we can bring the troops back home, heal our country. Somehow stabilize the Middle Ease without violence.

I know that's a dream, but who knows? When I got back I felt guilty that the war did not hurt me like it hurt some of my fellow combatants. I felt confused when it came to the people of Iraq. I loved them, I hated them, I feared them, I pitied them. I met some of them, ate at their homes, showed them pictures of my family. I also raided homes in the middle of the night, snatching human beings to be taken for interrogation. I shot at human beings. I saw people die. I saw blood, and for that, I hate fucking war. I hope the human race can learn not to do that. I wish we could eradicate violence. I know, I know. It's a naive dream. But whatever. That's only my opinion.

5 years. What can we do now? Will the government learn from the mistakes they've made? Will the Iraqi people forgive our wrongs and remember the goodwill we tried to bring?

Anyway, I got to go. I have stuff to do. Thanks for reading.

J.V.