Life After War - A Personal Account

If I was asked pre-9/11 if I would ever write such an article the question itself would have been an absurd one. As a freshman in college attending Eastern Kentucky University I found myself surrounded by the deviances of a hard partying college lifestyle and a posse of friends all nearly the same as me on a downward spiral. My grades were nothing to marvel at, however I was able to maintain my head above water even though I still had no grasp on what exactly I wanted to do with my future. At this point in time I was dedicated to my desires of getting laid and boozing it up as often as possible. At that age of 18 I could bounce back from a night of hard partying with little hangover and only the shame of my behavior of the nights before. Wrapped up tightly in this forbidden lifestyle I wanted help. I wanted the opportunity to be a responsible, upstanding member of society but my own demons and friends were enough to keep me woven in this way of life of excess. Then one day I received a phone call.

Upon answering my dorm room phone I found myself talking to a Marine Corps recruiter and although he had no idea as to irresponsible status, I found an escape plan. Immediately, I became interested in becoming a US Marine and doing something meaningful with my life; structure and discipline if you will. Shortly thereafter I went and physically spoke to the recruiter but my reckless behavior had put a lot of weight around my midsection and I hadn't performed any physical activity since my Senior year playing high school football and if I was to join the Marine Corps, I was to lose 55 pounds of many days and nights of hard partying. In the beginning the strenuous physical fitness plan I was on was demoralizing and extremely difficult for a fat kid like me but I saw the hours through on treadmills and elliptical trainers wearing the stereotypical fat kid sweat suit and met my goal.

Against my parent's regard I shipped out to Parris Island on June 29, 1999 and found myself surrounded by more structure and discipline than I could have ever imagined. Once again, I persevered and on September 24 graduated from boot camp at a slender 165 pounds, standing tall, and looking back very brainwashed but still proud to have earned the title of being a US Marine. I had joined the reserves as a Military Policeman so that I could go back and finish college with my new found self discipline and become the man I had always wanted to. Unfortunately, waiting for me back at EKU were my same group of friends and many of my old vices, namely a lot of alcohol and as many women that I could take home. Becoming a Marine was not in vain though, I relished it, ran the weekend demons out of my system religiously and maintained a GPA above average. Still not knowing exactly what I wanted to do in life I entertained the though of attending Officer Candidates School and becoming a career Marine officer.

Unexpectedly to all I think, September the 11th struck and changed the face of a nation in one crisp morning. After this myself and the other guys from my unit were itching for a fight. At this point attending OCS became more of an obsession and in June of 2002 I shipped to Quantico, VA for 10 grueling weeks of running, sleep deprivation, and leadership training. When August came I graduated and found myself so proud to have accomplished such a task. I headed back to school with only two more semesters to go before graduating from Eastern with a degree in Fire Science. The news reports of those days were laden heavily with Iraq often on the headlines. That January our reserve unit was activated and as little as we knew, we did know where we would be going and we were ready to get off the bench and play some ball.

I arrived in Kuwait on February 9, 2003 and we trained in the desert for nearly a month and a half before our war fighting fantasies soon became a reality. The first tour was almost fun coupled with enlightening feelings of liberation and success. In my mind, America was once again at the top of the Superpower list, knocking off Afghanistan and then Iraq with little problem. I made it back to Kentucky that fall, but not in time to get into that semester. At the Marine Corps Birthday Ball that year, usually a time of celebration and recollection we received a warning order for yet another deployment to Iraq. I think subconsciously we all saw it coming. After we got home, the headlines turned from tales of victory to an insurgency, from sweet to sour and the bell rang again for us to serve once more. Fortunately, we were not to be activated until late the following Spring which allowed me enough time to earn my degree and take a vacation before it came time to serve again. In June we were activated.

This time I found myself in a completely different Iraq than I remembered. We no longer barreled down the Main Supply Routes with doors off our Humvee, flaks hanging open and kevlars sitting uselessly next to us; now we were buttoned up in them with ballistic plates draped on the doors and sheets of flak on the floorboards wearing all protective gear issued with our rifles still slung around us as we cruised the MSRs. What had happened? When we left for home, the drunken feeling of victory no longer lingered in our minds, we were just ready to get home and the hell out of Iraq. After the deployments I turned down my commission as a Marine Officer and longed to assimilate myself into the civilian world. I have worked numerous dead-end jobs since our not so sweet homecoming in April 2005 and struggle with my beliefs as to if what we did was right or wrong.

I think the hardest part in dealing with this is not Post Traumatic Stress disorder but the feeling that I harbor that I am torn between my desire to still want to do my part alongside my brothers and sisters still in harm's way and that of me knowing that now at 27 and out of the military that I need to function as a responsible upstanding member of our society. Currently I have a good job working for Lowe's but I find myself disgusted when dealing with so many lazy, needy customers whom I still often think of as civilians, the person that I am trying to become. Dwelling upon the fact that I was in Iraq is a daily hurdle for me to deal with. I live with who I feel is the most wonderful girl in the world now, we have a cat, a dog and a small starter home which we are constantly working on; the American dream. Still I feel bound to serve my country but will not let myself throw away so much that is good in my life for something that I now feel is unjustified. My experience in Iraq is like that of an ex-girlfriend that I loved, but was nothing but bad for me. Now I find that letting go of this addiction is the hardest part.

Finally, I have some guidance in my life though and am letting go. I still have many dreams about Iraq and my thoughts are laden with it everyday but time is healing, just like a hangover and the longer I stay away from my vice, then I'm going to be good to go, just like the man I always wanted to be. There will never be true relief from my experience but now I know there is so much more in life which is much more beautiful and that is worth fighting for.