Fourteen years ago, I stood among a pile of rubble and dirt, observing the sights and sounds of Baghdad, Iraq. We, the soldiers of the United States Army, found ourselves stuck in the middle of a brutal war fueled by greed, religion, and competing ideologies. It was very confusing. Why were we there? What was our true mission? Who were our friends? Who were our enemies? During 2004-2005, the Al Qaeda-led insurgency was brutal, and as a nation, we lost brave soldiers, America’s finest men and women, every single day. I had the honor of leading the incredible 3rd platoon, Bravo Company, 91st Engineer Battalion (Sabers), 1st Cavalry Division out of Fort Hood, Texas. In my platoon alone, over the course of thousands of combat patrols, three of our brothers lost their lives, and more than a third of our platoon was injured so badly they had to be sent home to the U.S. for advanced medical care.

Nearly every member of 3rd platoon was awarded a Purple Heart. Five soldiers were killed in our battalion, and many more due to suicide over the past fourteen years, as they struggle to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder and other aspects of mental fatigue resulting from a 15-month combat tour in Iraq. For the first thirteen years upon our return, I had no desire to talk about what we faced. I didn’t reach out to any of our fellow soldiers, and I did my best to forget everything we had seen and experienced in that shit hole (excuse my language). Finally, 18 months ago, we held our first reunion to bring our Saber family back together for the first time. It was a truly a humbling experience. As we exchanged stories, our experiences seem to have happened lifetimes ago, in a galaxy far far away, but these experiences were very real, and many of our fellow soldiers are still scarred today, both physically and mentally, as they deal with those difficult memories.