Perspective: 'When I wished I was here'

Note: The following is the only 'perspective' post for the evening, except for the daily feature 'This Day In Iraq'.

It comes from the book 'When I Wished I Was Here: Dispatches from Fallujah' -- a first-person account of a Marine's return from war that's told as well as anyone has ever told the tale. I hope you will take the time to read the entire entry, found at the link below, and then order the book (just $8) from The Crumpled Press.


I AM HOME now; it’s nice I guess. Things are different. So am I. It is hard to get excited about things, anything really. Food is all right, I get sort of excited about that, and women -- well one anyway. Maybe I’m more mature now; maybe I’m just bored, I don’t know.

I gave up hunting. I regret this because I love venison. I never was very good at hunting and now I just don’t want to do it anymore. I never actually killed a deer, but I scared the hell out of a few. What is the point? They don’t even shoot back. Part of me wants to never touch a gun again, and part of me wants to wrap my hands tightly on my old sixteen, get the scope dead-on, lovingly reapply the camouflage tape, strap two magazines together, throw a round in the chamber, use the meaty-tip of my thumb to flirt with the safety, and go home to Fallujah.

Read the rest at Slate's 'The Sandbox'