 To capture what it feels like to be home as a veteran from the Iraq War is almost an impossible task.
The spectrum of my emotions ranges from full to deep and are difficult to convey in such a short format. However, in this, there would remain one sure thing that no movie could ever catch and no written word could espouse; these feelings will remain forever in the hearts of those who served this country.
On September 11, 2001 I worked the Search and Rescue Mission at the World Trade Center as part of the Military Reserves.
The pictures on the pile were taken on September 12 as I was on "The Pile."
We tried so hard to find people but found no one alive.
The World Trade Center. We are in front of the plaza and had just raised the American flag on September 13, 2001. It was missing from its' flagpole and we lowered all the other flags (UN, NYS, City of New York) to half mast. During the ceremony, an alarm went off as if a building was going to collapse and we had to evacuate. Fortunately, no building fell on us.
On September 11, 2002 I went to Afghanistan returning home again on March 11, 2003.
Myself and the five fellas with bears are our interpreters in Afghanistan. They were a great bunch and often they protected us as we protected them. I truly miss them. Many of them had been previous Mujahadeen warriors against the Russians in the 1980s while they were teenagers. The FDNY/NYPD baseball cap was my official uniform headgear for the duration of the war which I enjoyed. It was a different war than Iraq. Picture taken December 2002.
The little girl showed up as we were building a school in Afghanistan. She was dirty which is typical of the many poor kids in Afghanistan. However, she stood out because she had one of the saddest, and most fearful, expressions I had ever seen out of a child. Often I think of this girl. Taken September 2002
The Tank You was written by the Afghan people for our liberating them. 2002
Afghan guy getting his head bandaged was a casualty from a riot that ensued in our town. October 17, 2002
In September 2004, I left for Iraq serving my duty with heroes and returned this past March 11, 2005. In all of this, there is no "I," just "we." We are the veterans who served "We the People."
The bunch of mail came from the September 11 Families and they sent it to us regardless of whether they were for or against the war. It was heartwrenching to read their letters and learn of their lost loved ones.
The one of me and the other soldier-he is the fella I replaced. We served as Civil Affairs team Sgts assigned to the 3/153 IN 39th BCT Arkansas National Guard. Taken September 2004.
Almost daily I moved through my duty risking my life for people I didn't know. It was impossible for me not to gain a keener sense regarding the importance of life and all its priorities. As I read of life back home during this time I wondered if America fully realized we were at war and wondered if they knew how much that hurt.
Upon my return, it was saddening to see hot dogs sold at the World Trade Center, knowing the remains of some victims lay in a garbage pile in Staten Island, and to see a nearly empty 16 acres in New York City. It is upsetting that politicians can send this country's youth off to war, but would never send their own children of age off into the fray, while telling us essentially to “suck it up” and go to war with the Army we have. This idea, and the lack of call to sacrifice by the Administration, has helped perpetuate the notion of "we support our troops" but "we are against the war." The reality is most of the anti war crowd do nothing to support us; we are paid lipservice by them while many pro war people would never do our job.
This April 9 I was walking through Greenwhich Village and engaged in polite conversation with many people while later at the World Trade Center Fence one gentleman asked me, “How does it feel to have been lied to.” Whether I agreed with this gentleman or not, he would never know as I told him that was not the time nor place. Now when mentioning “I came home from Iraq” silence perpetuates. Older people thank me but my generation does not make eye contact. At 26 I am locked out of my youth. Yet I have no choice but to rediscover the joy of living and to honor the memories of those we have lost, and will lose in the future as we all gain in wisdom, compassion, and age.
Veterans are not simple-minded. We see the complexities, except when it comes to surviving. Just like everyone else we laugh, we cry, we look at life from both sides.
Though hard to talk of war, it is necessary to attain understanding. After all, why would one go through hell for selfish reasons? Quite simply, serving our country means we are serving you and the reasons why we do this is because we love both America and her people. The only thing that speaks louder than war is love.
Love causes an American soldier to risk their life for friend and foe; Similarly, it must be the same love that propels a firefighter into a 110 story building. This love allows for life and for the living of that life.
As New Yorkers, we live in the greatest city in the world. A city where a soldier and an activist can talk in the Village, at times about the most disparate ideas. It is a city where nations of the world meld into one people. It is the City that showed the world that September 11th was merely a chink in its armour, standing strong and solid after an attack by barbarians. These are held together by love. It is a gift from God to enjoy all the freedoms, engage in sidewalk discussions on war, and perhaps fall in love. It’s a gift to come home to New York City.
The heroes returning home, to the greatest nation in the world, need to be told by their benefactors, as the a firefighter at the World Trade Center told me on Sunday September 16, 2001, “It’s ok to go home.”
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