it in the pooper's blog: "My wounds"

I joined only to shoot terrorists. I joined the day after the world trade center was destroyed. I felt it was my responsibility to get back at those who hurt us. I joined the infantry because I knew I would probably see combat. I went to Iraq twice. I have had dealings with more than my fair share of al-queda in Iraq operatives and their supporters. I have seen more than my fair share of hurt comrades, and innocent children who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have survived more than my share of IED's, mortar, RPG, and AK-47 fire. I still live with Iraq everyday. I used to ashamed that I had nightmares everynight, and that I couldn't be around ppl, or that was angry at the world. I have a severe brain injury, and i am lucky if i remember to pay the bills. My frontal lobe on teh right side was caved in. But would I do it again? You are damned right I would. I love my country, and I was proud to wear that uniform. I did my part to get back at those who got us. Now I am not going to argue the whole U.S. Iraq thing. I know what i know. In my eyes everyone should have to serve. This month is a bad month for me. A soldier that I trained died sept. 3rd 2006. He was blown up in a Humvee by an IED. Granted no amount of training I could have given him would have stopped it, it still eats at me. I still shed a tear for those who died in New York, the pentagon, and in PA.

WOUNDS OF WAR

Some wounds of war
Are never seen
They're buried deep within

No open wound
No Purple Heart
No blemish on the skin

But these are wounds
That leave a scar
Upon our very soul

They tear our hearts
Cause misery
And take a heavy toll

Our bloodless wounds
Cause us to ask
Oh, God, what was it for

We go through life
Not knowing why
We have these Wounds of War