One of my students wrote this for me based on his service in Afghanistan:

Freedom, it is a word that it used so loosely. We all know that men go and fight for freedom but do Americans really know the cost. Yes, I am sure that if you have a loved one who has been overseas, you may understand. For the most, they see us march to an airplane, climb aboard, and then return months later with smiles on our faces. Do they really know what it is like to give up everything you have and leave?
Each day we wake up and stroll into our bathrooms to relieve ourselves and wash our faces. Never doubting that the light switch will work and water will flow from the faucet. We get ready to leave, walk out the door and stop. We start to curse the day because we forget our phone and have to go back inside to retrieve it. These are just simple chores…effortless routines of our daily life. As we walk thru our day and wait in drive thru’s for lunch, it never crosses your minds that someone, somewhere is in a hell hole for you. You go on each hour of the day expecting the school to be cool with air conditioning, a police officer at the corner watching for speeders, and the lady at the Krogers scanning your groceries. As you take this for granted we are there to insure you do not have to think about it.
My life is a ritual of mind numbing boredom until that boredom is broken. A daily concern is hoping for running water somewhere in my near future. I am not surprised if there is no electricity when I turn on a light switch. I do not fret over a meaningless item such as a phone. The funny thing is, my biggest fear is to accidently leave my weapon behind after relieving myself in the morning. I hope for a boring day because the opposite of that could mean for a real bad day. During these boring days I often wonder what is going on back home.
January 5, I get word that Bell from our home base was killed by an IED. It is 2am and it is still dark out. The sun will be rising in a few hours and I think, this will be the first time in 23 years that he will not be here to see it rise. My second thought is that his parents and family right now are going on with their daily routines, not aware that bad news is heading their way. I haven’t been here a month and reality has already slapped me in the face.
I am sleeping and awaken to hear the rocket attack. I lay motionless on the floor for a few minutes and then dart off to a bunker until all clear is broadcasted over the radio. I am cold, half dressed and freaking dirty from the bunker dust. There is no running water in my tent so I need to brush off as much dirt and dust as I can before climbing back into my sleeping bag. Oh how I wish it was just a neighbor’s dog barking that was keeping me up.
Six Marines killed last night. I was notified of it this morning when I reported into work at 2 am. The sobering fact that I am in a war zone is very real. The same thoughts run through my head as they did before. Are these Marine’s dads ordering something at Wendy’s right now? Are their mothers sliding their debit card at Old Navy?
I miss a little kid’s laugh at Chucky E. Cheese and the playing of a guitar. Why? I just noticed that it is something I can’t have for quite some time. Maybe when I get home I will appreciate these little bits of peaceful noise.
Lying in my bunk at night I find myself wandering off into deep thought of why I am here. It’s not the money and definitely not the scenery. Anyone in their right mind would rather be anywhere but in this dustbowl. It’s hard to explain why I am here. Unless you have that desire to serve, it cannot be understood. I am not here because I want to kill someone. I am not here because I hate someone. I am here because this is where my country needs me. I am a small piece of the puzzle but without me, the puzzle is not complete.
Now I am home and I dreamt everyday to get back to this place. Why is it that I am not comfortable being here. It’s hard to go though my daily routine without wonder who and what is over there right this moment. The weirdest thing is that… I feel more stressed at home than I did most of the time over there. I find myself missing it.