Going Home

By Micah Vander Beek

I woke up that morning in a cold sweat, I had a feeling that something terrible would happen that day. I am Steve Turner, a college dropout who joined the US Marines. I am currently on my third tour, stationed in Iraq. My main job is to accompany tanks and clear houses. I have seen men take bullets and die for their friends and country. I realize that every step I take could be my last. This is why I plan on this being my last tour so I can go to family back home in California.

June 10, 2004, its a normal day in Iraq. I am part of a convoy of Marines who are clearing houses looking for information about Al Qaeda leaders. My convoy was told that all citizens were to evacuate and all military age males still there were there to kill us. We find many houses with women, children, and old men. Almost all of the military age men have left their families until we have passed through.

The roads are sand and rock that are packed down from the few cars and our tanks. The stone houses appear abandoned and the cities all seem lifeless. We come up to the side of the houses, avoiding windows, and get to the front door. On a signal one soldier kicks down the door and we rush in, guns drawn, clearing every room in the house. Then we search through everything in the house looking for hidden weapons or people.

The streets can be just as dangerous as the houses. Improvised explosive devises can be planted anywhere on the streets; an ambush could strike a single group, but not the whole convoy, and our biggest fear, snipers. Snipers are the only enemy we cannot see, or find before they strike. They pick us off one or two at a time and then relocate and shoot from somewhere else. Even with all of these dangers we keep going. We can only keep going on the memory of the people we care about back home. We are there only to keep these terrorists out of the land we call home.

Today we are moving on to the next city, we are moving deeper into the enemies territory and we are expecting more resistance than normal in this next city. On our way I hear the sounds of some gunshots and an explosion at the very front of the escort. I am riding in a humvee made for carrying troops, the humvees with a machine gun are in the front and back to protect against a possible ambush. The humvees are armored and very powerful. We drive very fast and drive right into other cars knocking them out of the way of the other humvees, but not if they are occupied by women and children.

We reach our destination and set up camp and eat. Then we all set out into the streets. We can see residents peeking out from behind their curtains. They are looking out in terror.Their husbands are gone and they are defenseless.

I hear gunshots break out on the far side of the city. The men over there radio for backup. I gather my squad and head out as fast as we can to the location of the pinned down soldiers. We reach the location and there was no one here. There is blood and bodies on the ground, and bullet holes in the walls. All of a sudden shots rang out from around us. We realize we had been ambushed and ran for cover. While I was running there was a terrible pain in my right thigh. I fell on the ground and started dragging myself to cover not knowing what was going to happen. I see my comrades coming back for me. They grab my arms and drag me to cover. I feel light headed and dizzy. I know one thing is for certain this is my last time fighting in a war, either way I’m not coming back. I don’t know whether or not I will live, but one thing I do know is I’m going home.