letsgottoafghanistan: -The roll call is missing a name, since you left things haven’t been the same. - I feel guilty, often. I feel guilty when I wake up in the morning, and see my beautiful wife..and her blue eyes, and her big smile. I feel guilty when I’m out with friends having a few beers, watching sports on big screen TV’s. I feel guilty when I talk to my parents on the phone, and tell them about how boring my day was, but how great my life is. I feel guilty because I don’t understand why I got to come home, when so many haven’t. I spent approximately 278 days in Afghanistan, depending on the timezone you’re counting from. I brought with me 41 amazing, brave soldiers. We alone were responsible for the safety of over 95 other Americans, Civilians, Dutch, Slovakians, Australians, Navy, and Air Force personnel.   My soldiers and myself brought them all home. My PSG and myself brought our platoon home. Why were we so lucky?  It’s not like we were FOBBITs, hanging out at the MWR and Green Bean all day. We were infantrymen providing security for those unable to secure themselves. We spent more than 2/3’s of the deployment outside the wire, with the last 4 months being attached to 1st Group Special Forces in one of the most unstable regions of the province. Any where any one went, we were right alongside. We hit IED’s, we took fire - both direct and indirect. We did everything anyone who’s spent anytime outside the wire has done. And we still all came home. I feel guilty because I am no better at what I do, and sometimes significantly worse, than some of those who didn’t come home. I feel guilty because I got to come home to my wife, family, and friends..and they didn’t. For no discernable reason other than pure luck.  I had great, amazing, brave soldiers. But even the best soldiers make mistakes, miss something, have a bad day. Why were we so lucky.. I don’t get it. And it’s why it tears me up every time I hear about another friend, another brother I served with doesn’t make it home. Because I just don’t understand. So to cope, I feel guilty for being able to live the life I’d always dreamed of, while their dreams remain unfinished sentences…. “Only the dead have seen the end of war”

letsgottoafghanistan:

-The roll call is missing a name, since you left things haven’t been the same. -

I feel guilty, often.

I feel guilty when I wake up in the morning, and see my beautiful wife..and her blue eyes, and her big smile.

I feel guilty when I’m out with friends having a few beers, watching sports on big screen TV’s.

I feel guilty when I talk to my parents on the phone, and tell them about how boring my day was, but how great my life is.

I feel guilty because I don’t understand why I got to come home, when so many haven’t.

I spent approximately 278 days in Afghanistan, depending on the timezone you’re counting from. I brought with me 41 amazing, brave soldiers. We alone were responsible for the safety of over 95 other Americans, Civilians, Dutch, Slovakians, Australians, Navy, and Air Force personnel.  

My soldiers and myself brought them all home. My PSG and myself brought our platoon home. Why were we so lucky? 

It’s not like we were FOBBITs, hanging out at the MWR and Green Bean all day. We were infantrymen providing security for those unable to secure themselves. We spent more than 2/3’s of the deployment outside the wire, with the last 4 months being attached to 1st Group Special Forces in one of the most unstable regions of the province. Any where any one went, we were right alongside. We hit IED’s, we took fire - both direct and indirect. We did everything anyone who’s spent anytime outside the wire has done.

And we still all came home.

I feel guilty because I am no better at what I do, and sometimes significantly worse, than some of those who didn’t come home. I feel guilty because I got to come home to my wife, family, and friends..and they didn’t. For no discernable reason other than pure luck. 

I had great, amazing, brave soldiers. But even the best soldiers make mistakes, miss something, have a bad day.

Why were we so lucky..

I don’t get it. And it’s why it tears me up every time I hear about another friend, another brother I served with doesn’t make it home. Because I just don’t understand. So to cope, I feel guilty for being able to live the life I’d always dreamed of, while their dreams remain unfinished sentences….

“Only the dead have seen the end of war”