There is a reason why I struggle with PTSD and I will give you a look into that because it is why I am what I am and why I do what I do. Almost a decade later and it is still one of the first thoughts when I wake up and usually my last thought when I go to sleep. It has taken many visits to the wonderful lady I call my therapist to be able to put this out there for the world and my family to know. This is my story of “The Day”…

My day started working as a supply specialist in the troop operations command(TOC) at Forward Operating Base(FOB) Speicher, just outside Saddam’s hometown of Tikrit, Iraq. The day started out as usual. I got to the office a little before everyone else and started up the coffee pot. I don’t like coffee and I certainly didn’t know how to make it correctly, but they still drank it. They fussed about it every single day, but they drank it anyways. I got kinda good at it by the end of that deployment though. Anyways, let me get back on track here. I worked hard and learned the job I was tasked with as good as I possibly could. The folks I worked with were pretty great officers and non-comissioned officers(NCOs). They gave me a very hard time daily but nobody else did. The way a brother treats his sister but it isn’t a good idea for anyone else to do so.

At this point in the deployment, soldiers had started going home for their 2 weeks of leave, so the line units were running short on folks to run the security missions that our Squadron had been tasked with. I was asked if I could drive for some of those missions. I had become a regular at driving for all of the line units. When an extra body was needed, they always knew I would gladly volunteer for the job.

The commander of one of the units came in our office for a cup of coffee and asked my NCOIC if he was ok with me driving a mission that evening. My NCOIC told him he was ok with it if I wanted to go. Of course I said yes because being stuck on the FOB makes life feel a bit like jail. Stuck within a small perimeter and wearing the same clothes day after day. It gets old to say the least. On days when I would be on a mission, my NCOIC would let me leave the office a little early to go get prepared. I went to my room to ensure I had enough clothes packed to last 3 days. That’s the normal time to be delayed on another FOB. Now to take a nap before my long night of driving.

When the time came for me to get to the vehicle I was rested and ready to go, and so excited to get on the road. We did the usual checks on the vehicles we were escorting and waited for the word from the TOC. The word came and we were rolling out the gate. This convoy started like every other one. Kids running up to the trucks outside the gate. Some waving and others throwing rocks. The thing with children is they are the same no matter if they in a first world country or a third world country. Some are happy go lucky and some are just mean. The rock thrower this time must’ve had a pretty good arm because he busted the windshield of one of the trucks we were escorting. We had to stop for a while and get that truck driver calmed down. I should note that it’s very hard to calm someone who speaks a different language.

By this time we are running late and just ready to get to Joint Base Balad(JBB). As we were driving onto JBB we received word that we would be staying the night because the winds were picking up and would be having “red air”. Now I’m not sure how to properly describe what red air is if you’ve never seen it with your own eyes. Let me just say it is a beautiful annoyance. The sand and sun combining in the air that gives it a beautiful red hew. That would be amazing if it weren’t for the sand beating you in the face. So no convoy heading back out that night. We rested and waited to hear about the next day.

When we woke the next day it was clear as a bell and we were given the word that we would be taking a convoy back to Speicher that evening. So we start preparing our vehicles and getting everything ready to go. There is a rush that you get that, again, I can’t fully explain if you’ve never experienced it. This is what we train for. This is the types of moments that a soldier longs for. We want to be able to put all of our training to use. Putting on that gear, making sure your weapon is good, fueling the trucks, and lastly making sure the guy next to you is ready. We are all our brother’s keeper.

We got the word to go and we headed out that gate. The air was so clear and the only dust was the dust we were throwing into the air with all of our big trucks. There was lots of friendly banter on the air waves. You have one guy making fun of another for something dumb he said or did. The truck we were in had an outlet made to plug the I-POD into. We listened to different genres of music and it changed between hard rock to country to comedians. It was put to shuffle and someone was always singing along. The singing came to an end when the voice of the truck commander(TC) in the lead truck began to come through the speaker.

He was trying to figure out what was happening and also reporting to our convoy commander(C2). He said, “This kid is trying to wave us down. He’s trying to tell us something. OH SHIT, he’s showing us an IED.” At this point the C2 instructs us to secure the area. This is another thing we are trained to do, and it’s a bit tricky when you have a convoy of about 20 unarmed vehicles that you are escorting. The lead truck goes on the other side of the IED to block oncoming traffic, the second vehicle then pulls up to block off the rest of the convoy, the remaining armed vehicles then surround the unarmed vehicles to protect them. The C2 calls it up to Command and they instruct us to remain in place until EOD comes to remove the danger.

Keep in mind that the driver and TC are protected by up-armored vehicles and bulletproof glass, and the gunner on the top of the vehicle is less protected but does have protection from dangers from the ground. I am driving the second vehicle so we have moved up almost directly beside the boy who walked out in the road and stopped our convoy from running over the IED.

Almost immediately, a crowd had formed close to the area that we are in. The Iraqi’s are allowed to carry weapons at all times so there is literally a possible “situation” when a single Iraqi is around so you can imagine the tense nerves we are getting when a crowd is forming. This crowd didn’t seem to even notice that our large armed vehicle was there. They were not focusing on the soldiers and the truck, but the boy who had saved us. The crowd of, mainly men, began to encircle him and hit him very hard. My TC told me that he was about to get out of the truck and attempt to intervene and hopefully save this child who couldn’t have been more than ten years old. He told me to battle lock the door and don’t open it until he told me to. He instructed the gunner to watch his back and then he left the truck. He held the bleeding child with his left hand to shield from the angry men, and tried to get them to leave, but the crowd of very angry men did not back down. The C2 asked for a status and the gunner informed him that the TC was out of the truck. The C2 instructed the gunner to tell him to get back inside the truck immediately. He got back in the truck and we were forced to sit helplessly for what unfolded in front of us.

The crowd then surrounded the boy and beat him until he didn’t move anymore and then dragged him away.

There are no words to describe the feelings that I felt at that point, but I will do my best to do so.

Helpless.

Sad.

Angry.

Worthless.

Insufficient.

Monster.

Now back to the rest of the day. We then sat and waited for EOD to come and clear the route and let us get back on the road so we could sleep and try to forget the scene that had just played out in front of us. We watched the display of the detonation of the device and then got the all clear and away we went. The trip back was just like every other. We sang and filled the truck with music to keep our minds from going back to the side of that road.

That night when we got back to Speicher, we topped the truck off with fuel, cleaned all garbage and dirt out of it, and parked it in the motor pool. We walked back towards the barracks and of course I didn’t live with the males so my walk was just a bit further. The weight of all my gear didn’t compare to the weight of the pain I felt in my chest. I thought maybe going to sleep would take my mind off of it. The guys didn’t seem to be bothered so why was I near the point of a breakdown and so completely overwhelmed with sadness? This is war, right? I’m a soldier, right? Needless to say, I didn’t sleep at all that night and I haven’t slept a night since then that I haven’t seen that little boy’s face. Not. One. Single. Night.

This one day has caused such a change in who I am and how I lost control of myself and my ability to raise my children as they needed me to. The guilt is like a snowball effect. What started as guilt for not being a mama and taking care of that little boy then became a guilt for having my own children alive and well. That turned into falling into a deep depression and ball of nerves which then made me unable to care for my own children. That one day has forever changed me and the legacy I will leave to my children.