I don’t know if I would call myself an activist. Hell I may not even be totally against the war. After seeing all of those kids. With their eyes full of hope every time we passed. Maybe it was hope, or maybe they just were waiting to see if any of us disapeared into a little pink and white cloud. I like to think it was hope. Hope that they might go to school, learn to read, or better their country in some way. I remeber most of all the plain stupidity of the Iraqi military, always asleep, or not on post at all. Almost as if they didn’t care if they were attacked. As I sat behind a .50 cal. machine gun, looking through my binoculars, watching the Iraqi soldiers smoke at night, each drag lighting their faces, making perfect targets for snipers, or a mortar crew hoping for a lucky shot. I thought to myself, why should I be willing to fight for these people who don’t even want to take the chance to fight for themselves? I can’t seem to get my head out of the past. I think that if I volunteer to go back, maybe my experience will save one more AMERICAN life, I have a wife and son now. But I can’t get out of the past. Is it normal to WANT to go back? Not for Bush, not for Hillary, sure as hell not for the Iraqi people. But for the guys that were next to me, for the guys that could be next to me. Is that normal?