When I walk around in my BDUs, people often come up to me and shake my hand, to say thanks for serving, or even offer meals/drinks. That's all fine. I don't even mind answering questions from little kids, in fact, I like that part the most. Kids have some crazy questions.
What I don't like is when these yuppies ask me why am I defending this country, or why I liked being over in Iraq. Believe it or not, those are big questions with tiny answers. I can only answer for myself as to why I joined; it was for the steady paycheck after college, a job, a direction, because college didn't really answer any of life questions.
Then war came up and in 2003 I found myself in Iraq. My motivation there wasn't to defend the US, the Constitution, capitalism, or anything else in the commercials. It was about my family, but not my mom and dad, brothers or sisters, cousins and the like. Family, my platoon sergeant, my squad members, my first sergeant; they were my family. The guy that was standing next to you, even if you've never met him before today, he was family.
Family was my motivation to jump IN to a burning vehicle to throw off ammo to prevent secondary explosions. Family motivated me to carry my wounded buddies behind a berm for additional protection. Family kept me going for two and a half hours, providing security and working on the wounded. My only thought was to protect my family.
Yeah, that was three years ago.
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