10 years

ago we were marking time in a small encampment we had established about two weeks prior. We were waiting on the word to move north. We knew it would come soon, and we were ready. The call came around mid day and by that night we had moved to a spot just south of the Iraq/Kuwait border. We were part of one of 13 columns (IIRC) that 3ID formed for the invasion, near the far west side. We were composed of elements of an Infantry and Combat Engineer Battalion. Our FAS (Forward Aid Station) was composed of my 577 Treatment track, as well as a command vehicle and a couple of ambulance tracks. Heavy bombardment of thousands of predetermined enemy targets had already begun the night before, and we got the command to move forward sometime after midnight although I don't remember the specific time.

It was a strange feeling crossing that border. I know I felt we had crossed not only a geographical line, but an historical line that after which we could not stop events from playing out, whether positive or negative. In some ways it seems longer than 10 years, in others not. Many question what we wrought with that invasion. Was it worth it? I'm not sure we'll ever know, and it will probably be up to historians to debate as they have all wars in the past. The only thing I do know is I'm very fortunate to have made it out alive and essentially unscathed.