Not A Real Story Just A Really Short Story

As the sun rose over the desert horizon, I threw my blanket off, put my boots on, and tightened the straps on my helmet, then took a deep breath. The weight of my gear reminded me of the responsibility I carry on my shoulders. I was sent here to help a village being torn apart by the chaos of war. Trying not to think of the war my wife and children are facing every day back home, I continued to ruck up. 

Today was scorching hot, if I had to guess I’d say it was around 120. The days are usually boiling, but today is the hottest I’ve experienced yet. The heat didn’t bother me though, it was the uncertainty that weighed on my mind the most. Every step I took, every corner I turned held a potential for danger. 

Amidst the chaos of being in a warzone, there have been moments of camaraderie that have helped me keep going. The bonds I have forged within the crucible of war will be unbreakable. We rely on each other for a sense of normalcy in this upside-down country. I remember one night when we were stationed in a small outpost. We were sitting around eating our MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) sharing stories from home, and enjoying a lot of laughter. It was in moments like that we found solace, reminding us why we chose to serve. But war is never without its scars. 

As the sun beat down on the desert landscape, the air was thick with tension and the smell of gunpowder. I can feel the weight of my gear pressing down onto my shoulders and stabbing into my hips every step I take down these worn-out streets. The sound of gunfire keeps echoing in the distance, which constantly reminds me that I’m surrounded by danger. 

Peeking around a corner, my heart raced as I scanned around for any signs of the enemy. The buildings stood in ruins, the exterior scarred by bullet holes and shrapnel. The once bustling streets now stood silent. No sign of anyone other than our troops and stray dogs begging for food. 

Suddenly, an ear-piercing explosion rocked the ground beneath me. The shockwave left me lying on the pavement with my ears ringing. The smoke is so thick in the sky, that it obscured my vision. Through the haze, I can see my fellow troops groping their way to cover, with determination shining through the fear left on their faces. Getting back on our feet, we fixed our composure, and then we all let out a sigh of relief, some even prayed as we secured the site and our RTO (Radio Telephone Operator) called for the QRF (Quick Response Force). 

While the chaos was subsiding we pushed forward, our senses heightened. The remote sound of our CAS (Close Air Support) filled the air, their blades slicing through the silence. Then the cackling sound of radio chatter filled my headset, drowning out the sounds of the Apache helicopters. I was being given coordinates for our next moves. 

Every step I took was calculated, my eyes scanning for any possible sign of a threat. The weight of my weapon provided me with a sense of security, making sure I didn’t forget I had it. The adrenaline pumping through my body is something I have never felt before in my life. Finishing the final sweep of this camp I caught a glimpse of humanity. A child’s toy was lying in the middle of the abandoned street, reminding me that innocent lives have been disrupted by this conflict. 

The distant cries of a mother searching for her lost child. A heartbreaking testament to the toll of war. 

Yet, amidst the darkness, there were glimmers of hope. We witnessed the strength of the Iraqi people, and their determination to rebuild their lives despite the devastation around them. It was in their strength that I found inspiration, a reminder of the importance of our mission. The depiction of destruction and loss etched themselves into my memory.

 The faces of the innocent caught in the crossfire haunted my dreams. It was a constant reminder of the price we paid for freedom. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, we pressed on. We faced countless challenges, but we never wavered. We held onto the belief that our sacrifices would make a difference, and that we were fighting for a better future. 

And then one day it was time for me to go home. My time here was up, I served my country with pride. I was finally able to lay down my weapon, unstrap my boots, and take my uniform off. The memories of my time spent here will never be forgotten, it will forever be a part of me. 

After returning home, adjusting to civilian life was a challenge. The memories of war lingered, and the transition wasn't easy. But with the support of loved ones and fellow veterans, we found strength in each other.

 I decided to channel my experiences into something more positive, rather than sitting on my ass and reminding myself of the hell I went through so my family and your family can sleep in peace. I became an advocate for veterans' rights, working to ensure that those who served received the support they deserved. It was my way of continuing to serve, even after hanging up my uniform. Through it all I never forgot the lessons I learned and the people I met. Commitment and consistency were just words to me before enlisting, now I know they were the key to my success. As I started to train my fellow soldiers, is when I realized that I started to apply those principles to my life. 

In time, I found solace in the companionship of a loyal canine companion. Together, we embarked on a whole different voyage, providing personalized and effective training for dogs. I saw it as a way to give back and share lessons I was taught by a local I met in Iraq. I met Nour when I first got to my base. His wife and son were killed 3 months before I met him, we became close fairly quickly. While I worked with dogs and their owners, highlighting the importance of consistency, patience, and positive reinforcement. 

It was a humbling experience to witness the transformation of both dogs and their human counterparts. The bond that formed between them is evidence to the power of love and understanding. In the dog training community, I found a supportive network of like-minded individuals. We share tips and advice. It’s a reminder that humility and collaboration are the keys to growth and improvement. 

One day, a local blog featured my work as a dog trainer, Veterans Rights Advocate, and myself as a veteran. The article highlighted the personalized approach I took and the positive impact it had on the lives of both dogs and their owners, how I was helping my fellow vets, and basically a story about anything I wanted to cough up during my time overseas. It was a proud moment, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity.

Written by

Heather Zayas