Chapter+8

My Journey Home

My name is Private Jones. I’ve been in Iraq for almost eighteen months and every day I look forward to seeing my family. My Tour of Duty is nearly over. I will be returning home in only a week, and I can only imagine how happy everyone in my small hometown will be when we return.

My platoon and I were assigned to escort a convoy of fuel trucks to an airfield. As our humvee passed a stone wall on the side of the road; I heard a really loud pop, the driver of the humvee started yelling at me “Get out, get out!” It was then that I jumped out and I felt as if I had been hit by a hammer on the chest. I started screaming “Help!”, as I fell to the ground I realized the bullet that had hit me was buried in my body armor and I wasn’t bleeding. Then I realized the insurgents were gone and I was relieved that I had lived and no one was seriously injured. The sergeant walked up to me and asked “Are you alright private?”

I answered “Yes I’m fine Sarge.”

“I called to have a helicopter pick us up, I want you to open a can of smoke so they can find us.” he replied

“Yes Sarge.” I replied. I walked over to the clearing beside the road and did exactly what Sarge had said. Within five minutes I heard the distinct sound of propeller blades.

The next week was uneventful and I would be on my way home in just a few hours. I was definitely ready to leave Iraq, I had enough of the war and seeing my friends die.

As we loaded the aircraft on our way home things got a little more laid back since there were no officers with us. We all talked about our families and how we couldn’t wait to see what they had been up to.

One guy said to me “I got a letter from my wife she says that our son was born two weeks ago and she wanted to wait until I got there to name him.”

When we finally got home I was surprised to see that there was only a few families there. I thought more people would be there. Outside we only families no one else was there, no one from our small community.

Immediately I spotted my sister and I ran up to her to give her a hug, then she asked me how Iraq was, I didn’t want her to know of all the horrible things that had happened to some of the soldiers so I wasn’t very specific.

“I’m definitely not going back, not for all the money in the world.” I responded.

Then she became very serious and I could tell something was wrong. “Mom has died of cancer. I wanted to write to you, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person.”

It was then I realized things had changed forever and our family would never be the same. I was very close to my mom, we all had Christmas and Thanksgiving at her house every year. Things will never quite be the same.

For the next couple months I had trouble adjusting to civilian life, they hadn’t experienced the horrors I had. I felt like an outsider, and they treated me as such.

Colin Beuttler