"But I'd never do it again."
These were the words of a friend of mine, a "kid" I played league volleyball with over four years ago. Since that time, he's been sent to Iraq four times. At 18, just out of high school, he lived in a run-down New England mill town with little prospects. So, with supposedly no wars anywhere, he enlisted for the career and money. He did his basic, he got stationed in San Diego...then all hell broke lose, of course. Now, after four tours, he said he'd never go back.
One of the guys in the conversation asked the rather bizarre question of him, "was it cool?"
"Fuck no!" he said. "I did my time. When I first went over, I thought we were fighting for something real. I wanted to go. My second tour sucked. I had to wear 200 lbs of body armor everywhere, you couldn't drive a mile down the road with having to stop and check for IED on the side of the road, and when you didn't find any, the next spot up the road would blow up anyway. It got worse each time I went back.
"It's a fucking joke. We're not doing anything there now they told us we were being sent for. We're not helping them. I't totally fucked up. I'd never go back."
He came home with a huge "UNBROKEN" tatooed across his stomach, because he survived his tours without any bullet holes.