Day 3 - The Fire Within

As another night passed by, spending another cold evening on the newly constructed patio, a cold front rolled in. As we played a heated game of Hearts while watching a movie being projected on the far wall, we devised a way to keep warm on that chilly night. Behind us sat a large grill and leftover scraps of wooden pallets. In my pocket lay a can of lighter fluid.

Coming together to break apart the pallet, we placed splinters of wood inside the grill, staggered to evenly distribute heat. Beneath the pile, we laid scraps of newspaper doused in fuel. To it we added the source of ignition: a black Zippo lighter with “Operation Iraqi Freedon” engraved into the side. Within minutes the fire raged and the heat began to flow. Warmth overtook us all. It wasn’t long before the movie was paused and the card game had abruptly ceased. Five men huddled around the nighttime flame as only the crackles of the wood broke the silence. What once were frigid fingers were now warm and full of life. The five of us, huddled in a small group, took it all in.

It was around this time is when I felt a burning inside of me, the fire within coming alive. I began to ponder the reason why I was in Iraq, deployed during the holidays, why I would willingly choose to leave everything behind to be in a country overwhelmed with violence and instability.

It was a Tuesday morning. September 11th, 2001. As I sat in my Oak Park and River Forest High School second period English class, warning sirens began to sound. In an instant all the televisions were tuned to local news channels as horror gripped a nation. I remember watching a large passenger aircraft strike the World Trade Center in New York, the second plane involved in a fierce attack against our nation. As the day rolled on and we hurried from classroom to classroom as to not miss a minute of the coverage, I felt a burning inside of me, similar to that cold night in Iraq. It was that day a 14-year-old male decided he was going to do his part to help a nation, his nation. A small spark was lit deep within me, waiting for an event to come along to fuel its might and glory. I decided then and there that I would do all I could to prevent another attack from occurring on American soil. At the time, filled with rage and disbelief, I felt what the majority of the American populace felt: kill all Iraqi terrorists.

It wasn’t until many years later that something would happen, changing me forever. As I worked another long day on a welcomed warm December afternoon, an Iraqi translator came to me for assistance. After helping him locate something he had misplaced, he did something which caught me off guard, an act that would change the way I viewed the people of Iraq. After he thanked me, he gave me a brief yet firm hug before turning to walk away. It was this gesture, something as small and insignificant as a hug, that would change my perception. Human emotions are a powerful thing. No longer did I view the people of Iraq as targets, associating all of them with terrorists, people who needed to be removed to promote the safety of our great nation. I now viewed them in the same manner that I would view a fellow classmate, a coworker, a random person on the crowded streets of downtown Chicago: as a human being.

Actions speak louder than words and many times these actions define who you truly are as a person. At the age of 17, I raised my right hand and took an oath to protect and defend. It was on that warm December day in Iraq I made a promise to myself that not only would I protect and defend country, but all those in need. I could have easily gone about my normal daily activities and paid the translator no mind, leaving him to feel unnoticed and unappreciated. But because I chose to help him with something so small, he chose to help me in a way that he will never understand. That day he helped me grow out of the immature mindset of “Kill people, blow stuff up” and into the mindset of “How can I help out this person in need?”

Not every man is created equal. As hard as we may try to shield ourselves from reality, living under false pretenses, the truth is things are not as we would be led to believe. The financial hierarchy that divides us into different social classes, the type of vehicles we drive, the square footage of our homes, all things that separate an individual from the next. Birth abnormalities, medical conditions, learning curves, schools we attend, even the last name we possess. But, on that December day in Iraq, although it is apparent that we are not created equal, I learned a valuable lesson. Not being equal doesn’t justify not caring. Not being equal is what gives this world hope, what inspires us to perform at levels which before seemed unattainable. It drives our competitiveness, leading us to reach personal milestones and achievements.

As I stood around the makeshift campfire, bundled in the layers of my uniform, a fleece and jacket, wearing a black skullcap covering me ears, rifle slung around my back, the fire within me continued to grow. What is this war really about? Are there weapons of mass destruction out there? Probably. Are we fighting to gain control of the world’s largest supply of oil? There’s a chance. But would the world believe there are people here fighting to create stability for a nation, to assist those who have been deprived, those who are less fortunate? In ix short weeks, I’ve seen first-hand some of the progress that has been made here, not only by the fine men and women who wear these uniforms, but by the people of Iraq. I’ve witnessed the people of this country come together, forming coalitions and task forces to rid their nation of terrorists that have plagued their, as well as our own, home soils.

Can one person truly change the course of a war of thousands? Chances are slim to none. But one person can make a world of difference to another in need. A friendly smile, a simple hello, the warmth of a hug. These are the things that can change the direction of someone’s day. It was a sincere “Thank you, friend” followed by a small embrace that changed the way this man, this Airman, saw life.

Human emotions are a powerful thing. A small spark which dwelled inside of me for 7 years, from the moment I saw two monuments topple in a matter of seconds, grew into a glorious fire. As the warmth continued to overtake me, it was then I realized why I was there, what my mission was, and what I was sent to do.

As the hours passed by and the movie came to an end, our fire began to dwindle away. The heat from the flames, the aroma of the wood, the dancing of the embers, all began to dissipate. As our watches read 0130, everyone headed off to bed, one by one, to prepare for another eventful day. I stayed around a few minutes longer, letting the fire within continue to fester, fueling a newfound passion. To think, it all started with a simple “Thank you, friend” and a genuine hug of gratitude.