One mans loss is another mans gain.

As I rise to my feet I grab my mat and roll it up. I walk into the next room where my son is sound asleep and lay it in the bed next to his head. Trying not to wake him I lean over to kiss him on his cheek but he opens his eyes. I tell him that I love him and to be a good young man and go back to sleep. I tell him goodbye and as I stand upright I fight back the tears that are brewing in my eyes. I stiffen my lips and stick out my chest, today is a joyful day.

I walk back into my room I make my way over to bed, kneel down and reach underneath. I slide the key off of the springs and turn around to the chest on the floor, stick the key in until I hear a click and I open the top. I pull out my things and lay them on the bed. I drop my robe to the floor and as I begin to get dressed I hear my wife making her way down the hall. As she enters the room my nostrils flare to the scent of the tea she brings with her. She places the cup down on the table that sits in the corner of the room closest to the window. She walks over to the bed and begins readying my things. We have practiced for this day many times and now it is second nature. I walk over to her and turn around and she wraps my stomach. As she ties me off I pull my garment over my shoulders and adjust the neck so that it hangs perfectly upon my chest. I kneel down and lace up my sandals as she walks to grab my tea. Handing it to me she stares into my eyes. I return the stare but with a certain sternness. She turns her head to the right breaking our eye contact. I reach up and grab her chin forcing her face back towards mine. When I am sure she understands what my eyes are telling her I release her chin and turn to my head piece. I place it on my head and take a quick sip of tea before returning it to her. Now I must leave.

Walking down the street I look to the east as the sun begins to rise over the rows of homes that my friends live in. You can see the lights on in the houses and hear the adults and children beginning their daily rituals. It hasn't been long since the children were able to attend school but they are as eager this morning as every other morning. But today just feels different. I seem to notice every detail about every object. The strays down the road growl at one another over a stale piece of bread dug from the trash piled up on the corner of a building. Birds chirp in the distance as if they are having a casual conversation. A flat bed KIA strolls by with the cab as well as the bed full of workers heading towards the job and as they turn the corner I see my brother. He is walking toward me, expecting me. He crosses the street and stops at the corner and waits for me. When I arrive before him he grabs my shoulders and kisses my left cheek and then turns to kiss my right. We step back and give each other a quick glance and nod our heads in unison approving of one anothers dress. We begin to walk down the road to the west, the road that the workers took; he looks at his watch as I light a cigarette. Other than my deep inhaling of the tobacco the clapping of our sandals on the concrete is the only sound that we notice. Both of us are looking at the ground studying the terrain preparing for the placement of our next step. As we draw near you can hear the streets come alive. Shop owners are pulling tables onto the street and preparing for the day. The women are moving about with brooms dusting off the sidewalks as the elderly point and give orders. People are greeting one another with smiles, hugs and laughter, just another day at the market place.

Checking our watches we see that it is going on six o'clock. Picking up the pace now, the sound of our footsteps seem to be setting the tempo for my heartbeat. Before I extinguish my cigarette I use it to jumpstart another one. My breathing is getting heavier with every step and every pull from my smoke. My palms are beginning to clam up and beads of sweat are emerging from the pores of skin on my forehead. We arrive at at the corner and come to a stop. I look over at my brother and he looks back at me. He glances around but I keep my eyes locked on him. He sees nothing out of the ordinary and gives me the signal. I step out into the street toward the other side and he finds a comfortable stance against the building next to where he stopped. After I step onto the sidewalk adjacent to my brother I look towards the ground and find my position in the shadow of the flag that is flying above me and the same city streets that I grew up in. I light another cigarette and look at my watch once again. I am exactly on time.

The chirping of my alarm snatches me out of my dream and forces me to open my eyes. I lay there for a few more seconds as if it is going to give me more energy to tackle the day but my alarm is slowly getting louder. I roll over and turn it off so that I will not wake the guys who dont have to go out today. Ugh! Four o'clock. How in the world did I let Lassiter talk me into taking his shift? Normally we work one day on, one day off but today is the day his wife is supposed to give birth to their first child so he is going to hang around the computer for the go ahead email to call. He better be glad that I'm a good guy and that I took his shift. Well, it is for a good reason and once I get up and start moving around it won't be so bad. I sit up and swing my feet over the side of my cot and begin to stretch. I reach down and feel around for my flashlight and when I find it I turn it on, grab my personal hygiene bag, my towel and head toward the latrine. When I open the door to the latrine the light forces me to close my eyes and I nearly fall flat on my face because I couldn't see the last step. Catching my balance I slowly begin to open my eyes and make my way over to the sink. I set my bag down and pull out my toothbrush and toothpaste. As I begin brushing my teeth I focus in on the mirror at the face looking back at me. Only nine monhs later and I think I'm starting to look older than I should be. Could it be all of the mornings waking up at four o'clock or could it be all of the nights that I don't get into bed until about two? Nah, it's probably the food that we're forced to live off of. It doesn't matter what they serve or on which day they serve it on but after a while it all taste the same. Well whatever, I only have about two and a half more months left before I get to go home and eat anything I want. Realizing what I have just told myself, I can't help but to smile.

When I get back into the room more guys are stirring around getting ready for the day. Flashlights are swinging from side to side while the soldiers are trying to remember exactly where it was that they laid their things the night before. The Velcro on the uniforms break the silence as everyone suits up getting ready to roll. I set my things down and join in on the noise. Minutes later and about 30 pounds heavier I am ready to move outside. I pat myself down and glance around making sure that I have everything. Feeling confident that I am good to go I head towards the door. Before I exit the building I turn and in a loud whisper remind the other guys not to be late. I then walk out, another day, another dollar.

When I step outside into the dark but already hot, sticky air I hear the same thing that I hear every other morning, the prayers from the loud speakers in the distance. I walk over to my truck and lay my things down in the back seat, walk around to the hood and pop it open. Just as I lift it up to start my inspections the other guys make their way out to join me. As some of us are checking under the hood others are fixing the 50 cal's to the turrets. The more we move around the more everyone comes to life. You start hearing more chatter and even some laughter. It always seems to amaze me that soldiers can find humor in some of the suckiest conditions. Again, I can't help but to smile.

As we finish up all of our pre checks everyone begins to take their position. Because Lassiter is a gunner and I am taking his place, I have to ride in the turret. I am normally a driver or a TC but I don't mind getting on top for a day, after all, it's been a few weeks since I was behind the 50. I situate my gear inside the truck, strap on my helmet and climb through the hatch. When I settle in I put on my gloves and pull my ballistic goggles down over my eyes and tell the guys that I am ready to roll. I give the turret a good spin and we start to pull off. As the trucks pull out of the parking spaces one behind the other I realize that I did forget something, the most important part of my uniform, a picture of my son. I yell hold up and the truck stops and I jump out. I run back into the building and make my way through the dark back over to my sleep area. I bend down and feel underneath my pillow and grab the picture of my son. As I run out the door I kiss the picture and say a quick prayer thanking God for allowing me to remember. I climb back up to my seat and one of the guys ask me what it was that I had to get, so before I secure the picture I flash it to him and he gives me a thumbs up. I let the driver know that I am ready to roll again and then we're off.

Route Irish, one of the most deadly routes in Baghdad and all of Iraq for that matter. We are in charge of certain areas of the route and anything that we are not responsible for other teams cover down on. Most of our missions are like the one that we have today. We meet up with the Iraqi forces and roll with them downtown to the government buildings. We have to do this mission at least twice a day. The only thing that changes up are the roads that we take leading to the buildings once we get into the city. But the guys really do not mind doing this duty because it gives us the chance to interact with the Iraqi soldiers and it also gives us a chance to be seen by the public working with their own people. We drive toward the gate but before we get up to it you can see the Iraqi trucks lined up ready to roll. It is amazing at how a year or so ago the Iraqi force lacked discipline, motivation and training but now they almost mirror us with their hummers and some of their tactics. As we near the Iraqi's our convoy slows down and then they pull out one behind the other until they are all directly in front of us. The gunner in the last truck gives us a wave and I wave back as we pick up speed forming one convoy of exactly eight trucks. When we drive out the gate we turn to the left and pick up speed. Our day has officially begun. Less than an hour later we will be at our first stop downtown. I spin to the passenger side of the truck and can't help but to notice the sun rising over the horizon. The shades of blue and orange are beautiful and they remind me of why I don't mind waking up so early so often. It is impossible not to smile.

I drop my cigarette onto the ground and twist it out with my foot. I look over at my brother and he is stretching his neck to look down the street. I look in the direction of his eyes and see the children walking with an urgent stride in our direction. Two of them, both are our brothers sons. They get to the corner and run across the street to my brother who has been expecting them. They look up at him awaiting their orders. Everyone is in place.

Spinning around I notice that the roads are getting busier. As we approach the downtown area we exit the main roadway and enter the narrow roads between the buildings. As usual the streets are busy with pedestrians and people on bicycles so we slow down to help prevent any accidents. The blocks arent very big so the stop signs come quite often. When we get to a stop sign the kids on the street run up by the trucks and start to wave and chase us momentarily as we start to pull off again. With everything you read about in the papers and everything you see on T.V you would think that these people hated us. If that was the case then why is it that I never see it? Sure, there are the ones that are extremists, the Muslims giving all Muslims a bad name but the numbers cant even compare with one another. But then the world doesnt respond to happy news so the media continues to pollute the minds of everyone all over the world with the negative in order to be the one that sells more copies of their newspapers and to have the most viewers watch their channel. Hell, I cant even read the paper anymore. I get disgusted at the people in the news always making our job harder than what it is. And then you have the idiots that take everything for granted like the protesters at the funerals of soldiers. I could not promise you that if they showed up to a funeral that I was at that they would be able to walk away with a breath of air in their lungs, if I let them walk away. Soldiers are out here everyday away from our families and our homes and our country just to have our own people spit on us when we finally get to return home. But hey, what can you do? If I spent all of my time thinking about these things then I would never accomplish anything. So here I am, I wake up every morning and do my job, counting down the days until I can go home and see my son. Two and a half months.

I look around and realize that we are getting closer to our destination. The convoy is snaking around the city taking the long way around to our destination. Everyday when we get closer to our stop we change up the route a little bit so that no one will know what roads we will take next. It is one of the few safety measures we can take in order to lessen our chances at getting attacked. Today we will drive strait through the market place. I always enjoy riding through there because I like to shop. Although we have only stopped once or twice since being in country the shop owners always seem eager to see us roll through with the hope of us stopping in for a visit with cash to spend. There isnt much to look at but it is still fun none the less. When get to the end of the road that the market is on our convoy begins to turn to the right but before my truck can make it to the corner we stop. Instantly everyones headset begins to squawk. Everyone wants to know what is the hold up. With me being in the lead American vehicle I spin around to try and get a better look. All I see is the Iraqi soldier two vehicles up appears to be yelling and waving his arms as if he is trying to get someone to move. I speak into my headset and tell everyone that it seems as if someone stepped out in front of a vehicle and that the Iraqi is trying to get them to move. I tell everyone to that it probably isnt anything but to keep an eye out just in case. I glance around but I dont see anything out of the ordinary so I turn my attention back to the vehicles in front of me just in time to see two kids emerge from in between the vehicles. The Iraqi in the turret is still yelling and waving his arms at the boys as they turn away and take off running. I spin around to the truck behind me and look at the gunner as I speak into my headset and tell everyone that it was only a couple of kids and that we should be good to roll now. But right as I begun to face the front I heard someone yell from inside my truck that a man has just stepped out in front of us. Startling me I spun around to see a man stop in between our vehicle and the last Iraqi vehicle in front of us. Looking at the mans face I instantly knew something was seriously wrong. The man appeared to be extremely nervous and sweating a lot. I start yelling at him telling him to get out of the way while I wave my arms motioning the same thing. By now my earpiece on my headset is blowing up with yelling coming from the guys sitting below me and questions coming from the ones behind me. With instincts kicking in and no other apparent solution I pull the charging handle back on my 50 caliber machine gun and point it at the man 20 feet in front of me.

My head is light and my feet are heavy. I look behind me at the vehicle with the Iraqi soldiers in it and turn my head back to the American soldiers. The one on top is yelling at me in English for me to move out of the way. I look to the corner where my brother is standing and he begins to yell to me to remind me of the praise my family will receive on the behalf of their sacrifice. I glance past him to see our brothers children running in the opposite direction. My head starts to spin and I hear the American readying his weapon. If it is going to happen it must happen now I slowly turn back to the Americans and begin to pray.

What seems like an eternity has only been seconds. As I look down the barrel at the man in front of me he begins to speak in Arabic. I yell down to my Sergeant who is the convoy commander and ask him what I should do. He tells me to hold tight and points out that the man is not armed therefore I can not open fire. He says that we are going to try to move around him because the entrance to the police station is right around the corner. The commander tells everyone in the trucks behind us to prepare to back up and I feel our transmission shift.

As the Iraqi stretched his arms toward the sky I noticed his fist clenched with a single red wire running up his sleeve. With the split second my mind had it cast a vision of a little boy before me; he was running to me with his hands out and he was calling for me.

And it would be the last time I ever saw my son.