I find myself a little dumb stuck thinking about the fact that the Iraq war, my war, is over. Granted, I'm glad. I think we should have been out of there years ago. But on some level, I thought it would never end during my lifetime. And now, it's done. With no media blitz, just a quiet folding of the flag.
It's been 9 years, 4,474 American lives, and countless Iraqi civilians. Not to forget those wounded, both physically and emotionally. We've paid a huge price... and for what? I don't really want to debate the politics of it. I have my opinion, as sure as you have yours, and that's not what this post is about.
I was called to active duty in March 2003 (the very beginning of it all), arrived in Kuwait in May and then onto Iraq. I spent a year of my life in that country. And have thought of it every day since. I have struggled to overcome the devastating affects on PTSD on my life and my family. I have had surgery to try to fix the physical wounds. Everyday I am reminded in some way of the time I spent in Baghdad.
As I sit at the keyboard, trying to make sense of what I am feeling today, I realize that most of all, I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want my brothers and sisters to be lost. We, as a nation that chose this path, must continue to care for those that have fought for us.
I don't want my war to be forgotten.
|From my turret.|