I went to Iraq in November 2004. I don’t hesitate to say that before I left, I had the world by the balls (or I thought I did). I had a great family life, I had a great job, made great money. I lived a life that was envied by others. I am most definitely not bragging. I was blessed with a good life. When I was activated and mobilized in 2004 I did my duty, served my country which was my choice, totally. I left behind a wife of 10 years, 2 young sons (Jackson 5 and Timmy 3) and a little daughter, Abby that was 10 months old. I didn’t see anything crazier that others haven’t seen in their tours over there. I didn’t kick in doors in the city. I didn’t see my buddies mangled or blown up in front of me. I ran 139 convoy security escort missions. Just like most of us over there, I was shot at. I was close to IEDs. I heard the whistle of mortars and rockets flying over my head. It wasn’t all that fun at times…shit, it was war. I did have some damn good times though. The adrenaline rush you get when you’re sitting in the MCT lot getting ready to leave for a convoy mission. You’ve got your head phones blaring some Kid Rock or Disturbed song. You can FEEL your heart pumping underneath the sappy plates that you pull as tightly around you as you can while you hear the shots ring out in the distance. If you haven’t lived it you have no idea what it feels like…what it feels like to actually know what it means to be living in the moment. What it feels like to have death seconds away from you if death chooses you.

The buddies I met over there are the closest friends I’ve ever had. I don’t see them except maybe once a year. I talk to them once every few months. Even in that absence I am closer to them than anyone. I trust them fully and unconditionally. If you were there and you’re reading this then you get what I just said….you know from experience what it’s like. That’s the purpose of this blog…as post-war veterans, only WE get it. We can tell our civilian friends or aquaintences about it. They all give us the same look. You know the one…that creepy grin that says “Man, I wish I could’ve been there and done that” or “That’s so cool, keep talking!”. But they don’t get it and never will. When I got home I will admit that I struggled to “re-adapt” to normal life. Only WE get that, too. I struggled as my marriage fell apart. I struggled with trying to get into my job. The passion was gone for most things even though I wanted nothing more than to “get my old life back”. I yearned for the adrenaline rush of a convoy mission again. The thing was though that there was no one I could talk to about it. No one understood these feelings. Hell, I didn’t even understand them. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me so how could I talk to someone about it?

That’s the purpose of this blog. I want this to be a site where we…Post-war Iraqi Freedom/Enduring Freedom vets...can “get together” and share ideas, thoughts, memories, experiences, whatever. I had, and still have, mild symptoms of PTSD after I returned home. I went to the VA hospital to talk with someone. They didn’t want to talk…they wanted to prescribe medication and “watch” me….BULLSHIT!!!

The climax really came in May ’06. A close friend I served with in Iraq committed suicide. I was completely surprised and I took it hard. It also made me really think about things. I started talking to my friends who had been there about things that “real men” aren’t supposed to talk about. We talked about how we felt, the lack of passion or motivation for things. The feeling of being disconnected from our kids and families and that we didn’t understand it. The more people I talked to, the more it became apparent to me that this was an issue. That’s the purpose of this blog…a place to just talk about this shit and hear other people’s experiences. The more I heard of other people feeling the same way I did, the more at ease I started to become. I was slowly getting the feeling that I wasn’t just some freak or nut-job losing my mind. The events we lived every day in Iraq have effects on people. Some people never have symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress and that’s great. 1 in 4 returning soldiers do. The ones who can help others the most are the ones who know what it’s like to go to war and come home.

I don’t want to sit around and cry in our beer here but the fact remains the same…there are some of us out there who are in trouble. Some of us are having difficulties returning to normal life after war. We are losing enough of us over there we don’t need to lose any more of us once we return home.

WE can help each other. Who did you rely on while you were in the desert? It wasn’t your wife, your dad, your cousin. Sure they were probably some motivation to get your ass back home but they weren’t there for you to rely on. It sure as hell wasn’t some Army shrink that you relied on. It was the guy next to you in uniform. He or she was the reason you got your shit together. He or she watched your back. I depended on a handful of people every night to make sure that I made it home alive. My life was in their hands. Eric Foster in the front gun truck the first time on a new route…I depended on him to find the way and not get us lost…Aaron Haag as my assistant convoy commander, the hardest job in the convoy, keeping everyone together…Kyle Stritt, my gunner, being as vigilant as he can with the spotlights and being aggressive daring the shit-bag insurgents to pick our convoy to attack…these are the guys I depended on to get me back home. It doesn’t have to stop there. We can still help each other. It’s our duty!

Now that I am home, I depended on a lot of people as I "re-adapted" to civilian life even if I didn't realize it at the time. That's another main purpose of this blog. The people who hugged us good-bye when we left and later watched us walk off that plane when we returned home from duty need to know that some of us are going to be different people. They may not understand some of our behaviors or reactions to things now that we are home. We may act very differently. At first, I couldn't see the differences in me, maybe I just didn't want to see them. As time went on there were apparent differences in my everyday behavior. I want this blog to help the people here at home, as well. I want to give a little insight into some strange things that I did or said. It's all about learning from experience. The first time around you wing a lot of things. When a soldier comes home from war, for the first time, that soldier's family, friends and co-workers could really notice some differences and may not know how to react. I hope this blog can maybe help some of that.

In the Warrior Ethos it talks about “I will never leave a fallen comrade…” I don’t think those words apply only to the battlefield. That’s an oath we took, a promise we made to each other. I don’t want to leave a fallen comrade behind now that we’re home. If my experiences can help someone else then that’s what I want to do.