Late 2005 I was assigned to 2-35 Infantry Regiment, 25th Infantry Division, Schofield Barracks, HI. I re-enlisted into the Army after almost a three year break in service. On my previous enlistment, I served in the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment from the 82nd Airborne Division. All the new soldiers to include myself were standing in formation waiting on the Battalion Command Sergeant Major (CSM) to speak to us. I was the only Private First Class with a Combat Infantryman Badge, an Expert Infantryman Badge, and a combat deployment to Afghanistan.
SGT. Barrett and I contacted a suspicious vehicle in the parking lot that was parked in an unlit area at approximately 2300 hours. Once outside of our vehicle I started flanking toward the right side of the white Nissan Maxima, as the windows were darked out. SGT. Barrett went to the driver side of the vehicle, where the door was ajar, with a male sitting in the driver's seat with his feet planted on the ground I heard what sounded like a dense metal object fall onto the pavement from the driver's side of the vehicle.
Pop! Pop! Zoom! Whiz! I heard them and I heard them loud.
Loud noises seemed to scare me, I have no idea why but screeching tires, Revving engines, screaming children, and even the occasional barking dog will get me on edge and paranoid. In my younger years I joined the US Air Force as a way to get away from everyday life, I just wanted to get out of the everyday monotony of work, sleep, wake, repeat. The only thing that brought me any kind of variety was my sweetheart back home, Hazel. We met in high school when I was just 17 years of age, somehow we are still together today through the night terrors and struggles I constantly suffer.
I was a coward who spent most of my time in a dark cave reminiscing on my failure as a friend. As dark as the cave was, so was my mind. There were so many things I was afraid to shine a light on, but one needed to be remembered. There was this man I liked so much that I couldn't help waving his thoughts out of my mind. Kevin Bigger, dark, tall, and agile with a rectangular face structure; he was ready to serve.
A War on Three Fronts A flash of light shines in through my eyelids and burns my cornea. Muffled barrages and blasts sound through the silent ringing that overwhelms my eardrums. My eyes peel open and I turn my sore neck from side to side, as the blinding whiteness of everything presents me with the world in three. As the contrast in my pupils returns and the pestilence in my ears subsides, the Earth shaking sounds of bombs and bullets parade through my chest.
Growing up in Iraq in the era between the gulf war, Iran war, and Iraq war with the United state was a challenge for me, but it was not harder challenge than all what my parents went through to keep me and my siblings safe and sound. My mother is one of the strongest people that I have came cross in my life. She was and still the best mother, teacher, and my best friend. She graduated from Al Mosul University in Iraq as a Mechanical Engineer. Being a daughter of graduated mother will always push me to complete my education and go even further to earn my master degree too.
War changes Me: The time was August 1990, I was a young man at the age of 19. President Bush Sr. had put into motion what started off as Desert Shield, later escalating into Desert Storm due to Saddam Hussein taking over the country of Kuwait and making his way to the country of Saudi Arabia. The Marines where the first one’s in with boots on the ground. The time I spent in Desert Shield/Storm helped me transform me from a young boy into a responsible man, with oh so real events that became part of American History.
Introduction While helping my mom set up for Veterans Day, I was in charge of meeting with the Veterans and helping them get their visitor passes into the elementary school. The turn out was great, many veterans showed up in a variety of ages. I met with the oldest veteran there and helped him get situated before the parade began. World War 2 Veteran
It took 250$ and good deeds to create some doctor like me. Growing up I was the kid who looked at the world with open optimistic eyes. I grew up in a small city called Dora located in Iraq, the middle of three girls. I was born in the late 90s, I have been told that I was born "at the end of the good days". That's when Iraq's political circumstances were not at peace at all, at 2003 another war broke in Iraq.
I believe in the act of paying it forward, and treating others the way you want to be treated in the midst of it. Ever since I was a little girl, I always had a heart to help anyone that I was able to. I hated seeing others down, making it seem as if I was higher than them when I had nothing. I believed that if I was in their shoes, I would want someone to help me. Seeing homeless people on the side of the streets sad, hungry, desperate for just a bite of a sandwich or even a couple dollars to get them by for the next few days, made me realize how much I want to help people who are in need.
Life at Valley Forge Brave, have no fear of someone or something. American soldiers represent bravery. The huts of the soldiers were very long and wide. The fireplace was in acceptable condition. No beds in the huts just straw and mud.
I don’t really enjoy picking fights, or committing any acts of violence. Truthfully, if I got into any type of conflict, my lanky body would probably give up on me halfway. That’s what my wife told me after I said I was going to be joining the US armed forces. “Mark, are you an idiot? You can’t even walk without limping, how will you serve our country?!”
From the moment I was born I was considered a military brat, I was born in Hawaii at tripler hospital because my mom was in the army and stationed there, my biological father was in the marines. When my mom remarried when I was 7, she married a man who was in the Navy. Everyone thinks being a Military brat just means you know more than other people because you 've been more places and seen more things and you get a lot of stuff you want. This is not true at all. Coming from a military background means you never have stability, you are held to a higher standard than all the other kids, and sometimes it makes you want to be in the military and only focus on that.
Life in the war front is completely different than what I had imagined. As a Nursing Sister, or Bluebird, my job never ends, which makes writing in this journal extremely difficult. So many men come in with disgusting wounds, I feel sick just thinking about it even though I have nursing experience back home. I only joined the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps because father decided to join the war front himself. I understand that as a militant who has aided in previous military acts would feel responsible to join the war but, he also has responsibilities at home.
