Personal Narrative: My Combat Experience As A Soldier

I’m a military child. Change was instilled in me since my birth in Spain. My childhood was spent briefly in Europe, the east coast of the U.S, and eventually the Midwest. This change of scenery, schools, friends, and just about everything else in my life led me to be the person I am today. Travelling was amusing and I enjoyed change of pace every couple of years, but it wasn’t easy. I learned early on that getting attached to people wasn’t a good idea and should be avoided in preparation for the next move. This led me to being an incredibly shy child who couldn’t open up to people. The world I come from is an adventurous but problematic one. When I concluded making friends would assist with each transition I found myself too terrified to attempt

Growing up in Iraq, I endured my homeland’s journey through a difficult period in its history. No one was unaffected: civilians’ lives were disrupted by years of wars and detrimental economic sanctions, but amid the destruction, I saw the good in my community. I witnessed a massive humanitarian effort led by healthcare professionals, as physicians worked to meet the medical needs in my town. My dreams were shaped by this exposure, and ever since, I’ve hoped to join these doctors in their efforts.

Going into Country Manor I thought that many of the residents there would be happy and excited to see us and play games with and the staff would be helpful. While at Country Manor I mostly played games and delivered mail with residents. The first few times I went I played games like Jenga, dice, and crazy 8’s. I played with individual residents, groups of people, and with some of the kids from Kids Country. Many of the residents I played with really enjoyed the games and the social interaction with new people. One gentleman I played Crazy 8’s with was a Vietnam War veteran who enjoyed hunting. My dad is a veteran and my grandpa is a Vietnam War Veteran so we talked a lot about Vietnam. We also talked about hunting and fishing and shared many

Growing up as the son of a career Naval Officer, I have experienced a background that varies greatly from that of an applicant who has grown up in a strictly civilian family. The constant relocation, the exciting places I have lived, and the countless great, unique people I have met, have all contributed that that he unique childhood I have enjoyed. While at times my identity as a military child has made life challenging and difficult, I strongly believe that it has made me a stronger, more adaptable person because I have been molded by past experiences and I don't think that my application would be complete without this information.

The heartbreaking photo of an American soldier comforting an Iraqi girl, as she vigorously fights for her life. Her pink sweater sleeve saturated with blood on the right side of her arm captured my attention as a child in despair. The solider safeguarded the irreparable child as he exhibits empathy in her time of need, after being separated by her family during the Iraqi war. The distressed looked upon the perturbed soldiers face with his eyes close, as if he is praying for the well-being of the injured child. While he sits in the desert, with his backpacks on the ground surrounding him and his fellow soldiers standing in the scenery with combat gear, holding assault rifles.

Little did I know that was going to be the second to last time I would see her. If I knew about my upcoming death and I had a choice, I would have stayed, but when you are deployed to the US army you don't have choice. You can resist orders and be killed or you can follow orders and have a slight chance of surviving. I chose the later because I wanted to come home to my beautiful wife.

The year was 2007 and my brother Eric had just returned home from deployment to Iraq and the mood was ecstatic around the house. My dad was welling up with tears, finally being able to see his oldest child returning home from service. Mom was also very happy as well, repeatedly fondling over Eric as soon as he entered the house. Eric and I had always been close, even though there was a decent age gap between us of 15 years. We talked for hours about what his time was like in Iraq and in the military; he seemed open to talking about it even though he witnessed some fairly nightmarish experiences. Eventually I got the bright idea to challenge him to a wrestling match on the lawn even though he had 120 pounds on me. He tried to talk me out of

Being a military kid always made me different to the other kids in my school. Even I were to talk to another military child, our experiences would be different. Different states, different time periods without our parents, all of us have a different story to tell. I always felt like I couldn’t talk about my life because no one would understand. And most didn’t. It was hard to move across country. It was hard to move to different schools, sometimes in between the year. It was also hard on my family, with my dad being gone for long periods of time.

Growing up as a military child and living all over the world, I was afforded many

With no vision or plan to enter the civilian life and no idea what to do with my life, I still had severe scars of the year in Iraq. There wasn’t a priority or a drive, but however, I did have some responsibility I had a wife and three children. In a desperate move, I attempted to return to the State where I was born as I think about it this may have been some comfort zone. I would send my two new children back home to their state while I attempted to land a job. My first interview would be in Cincinnati as a Retail Manager in a large company. Confident that I had some stability, I couldn’t avoid the heavy drinking or my violent outbursts I would eventually succumb to leaving my wife and two children to find myself in this lost world, which later I regretted. My focus was to leave everything behind and start a new life this would

As a result of the extreme upbringing within the realm of combat, child soldiers tend to “fall within the messy, ambiguous, paradoxical zones of all three: [extreme victims, extreme perpetrators, and extreme heroes]” (Denov 2).

I joined the Marine Corps looking for a challenge. I wanted to open doors for a new career and longed to have a positive impact on the world around me. Looking back five years later, I realize I found all that I originally sought, but I’ve also found something profoundly satisfying and meaningful that I never knew I was missing.

On the early morning of April 19th, my husband left to gather with the militia. I being worried could not go back to sleep and awaited by the window from time to time. The children were still asleep and out of the corner of my eyes, I see at least a couple hundred of lobsterbacks. I was frightened and crouched making sure I wasn’t seen. Oh how my heart beated, and I am ashamed to remind myself that the militia fired. Perhaps out of fear, but they fired. Immediately there was movement until my eyes could see, running, shooting, bloodshed. As soon as I saw the Regulars marching, and the house being so near to all the commotion I ran to the children and hoped they wouldn’t burn the house down. I was prepared, nervous for the life of my husband

turning my head again I saw Simon dive to my aid. He did not utter a

If there was anything more terrifying to a shy, introverted, teenage girl than the idea of being a in crowded room full of strangers, it would to be actually in one. Yet, there I was, surrounded by a numerous amount of impatient, jet-black cars that illuminated the dark streets, rows of musicians rehearsing their piece by playing a dissonance of sounds, and the expectant, motley crowd of people lining up on the sidewalk for the veteran’s parade.