As I recall, the months leading up to the beginning weren’t much to remember. My unit returned home earlier that year from our tour in Iraq. I had spent three-sixty-five on ground working as military intelligence. Our group came up with those playing cards you saw on the news, the 52 most wanted. I was a hard-charged PFC back then, Private First Class, if someone finds this and doesn’t know.
But, that was the first tour. After our 3rd, I was the tired and depressed Sergeant. Nothing used to scare me back then. I didn’t fear death or what might be there on the other side if today was my day. That was then, and this is now. I write this not for anyone to really read it, but for my own sanity. Maybe if I keep track of it from when it began, it might be able to make more sense to me. Then again, maybe not.
I was 27 at the time and in my 4th year in college. My freshman year started in 2001, almost 8 years ago now. I remember the date as if it was burned into my head. May 8th, 2009.
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