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The Day I Learned who the War Really Affects
My name is Sean. I am a 27 year old Sergeant in the U.S. Army. Right now I am in Iraq on the last mission for Operation Iraqi Freedom. I’m hoping that this war will be over soon. But as the others say “This war will never end.” I’m on the slightly more optimistic side of this war.
I heard a voice in the distance saying, “Sean. Sean, we need to get out of here.” “Someone help me get him up.” I then realize that the voice is my good friend Connor. Then at that moment I passed out for who knows how long. But when I finally came to, I was fully dressed in uniform. I later found out that the reason that I needed to get up was that we were finally going to liberate a town from the Iraqi troops. “Where am I?” I asked.
“You’re in a jeep on our way to the town that we were supposed to liberate,” I heard Connor say.
“Hey, Connor,” I said.
“Yeah, what do you need?” he asked.
“You got any food?”
“The only thing I have is pudding. I know you dislike pudding greatly.”
One thing you should know about me is that I Hate pudding, especially chocolate pudding. It’s gross. I don’t know how anyone can eat it.
“Wait, I think I have a couple of Twinkies left… Yep I do.”
“You think I could have one?”
“I love Twinkies, Squishy goodness.”
As soon as I got that Twinkie, I looked (to the average person) like a savage who hadn’t eaten. When I had finished the Twinkie I walked just outside of our camp to see the buildings (or what’s left) of the town in pieces or with giant holes in the walls. I then said, “Connor, you better have a look at this.”
“Why?” Connor asked.
“It’s the town, or at least what’s left of it.”
“Be right there.”
All of a sudden I hear something go right past my ear. Probably less than five inches away from my ear. Little did I know, but I could have been dead. So I thought nothing of it and went on with my gazing at the town.
So we stayed the night and at dawn we left for the town. When we arrived we were relaxed because we knew that terrorists won’t just pop out from two buildings and yell, “Hello!! I am Lindsey Lohan.” So I was just chilling out in the .50cal Machine-gun turret when I heard a noise coming from a building off to the right. So I started firing at the building when the noise stopped. I then told Connor to stop and help me clear the building of whatever had made the noise.
So we walked in guns at the ready and searched the whole main floor but didn’t find anything, so I said, “You check the basement and I’ll check the upstairs.”
So we headed off in our separate directions and not long after I found a boy that looked to be about 15 years old. I then called down to Connor for him to come here. As Connor got in the room I asked the boy, “What’s your name?”
He replied to me by saying, “Why do you care?”
“I Said, What’s your name.”
So his name was Achmed. He looked like he had been through a lot. I had asked him about his parents but he didn’t want to talk about them. He actually wanted to move to America when the war was over.
When I was done talking to him, we went outside, got in the jeep and drove off. About a half-hour later we arrived in the center of town and set up a small camp. We had a dinner of canned soup over an open flame.
About an hour later Connor decided to go to bed. I had offered to be on guard for the night. It was at about two o’ clock when I was just about asleep, when I saw something throw an object into Connor’s tent. I then lunged at the thing and started punching it in the face, and in return it punched me in the face. I then pushed it off of me and pulled out my pistol, ran, and shot it in the face seven times. I then ran into the tent to grab the object, but I only had enough time to get Connor out of the tent before it exploded.
Shrapnel from the blast shot into my body. The pain was actually not that bad, but it still hurt a lot. I lay on the ground for what seemed like an hour, but in reality was only 2 minutes.
I had blacked out from the pain, but awoke in an American hospital with countless faces hovering over my body. I was having trouble seeing. As I looked around I only saw one face that I recognize, and it was Connor’s. He asked me one question which was, “How do you feel?”
“I feel pain and lots of it.” I said. I had so many questions about what had happened and how I had gotten here, so I asked, “Where am I?”
“You’re in an American Hospital.” Connor replied.
It’s been about four years since I finally got out of that place. But the more I think about it, the more I miss that god-forsaken place and the soldiers’ that live and work there. “You’ll never think that you’ll miss someone, something, or some place until you aren’t there with that person, object, or place. So take it from me, you should spend as much time with that person or stay in that place for as long as you can.”