My father wiped the sweat from his brow, turned toward me and said, ?Son, one day you?ll make a fine farmer.? As the unrelenting sun slanted down on the two of us I gazed into the distance and pondered, then firmly stated, ?Dad, I want to be a doctor.? My father looked down at me surprised evident in his weathered face and smiled. I was encouraged, relieved and more determined then ever to realize my dreams.
My desire to become a doctor was rooted in my yearning to help mankind in general. Only days after my eighteenth birthday, with these idealistic notions in mind, I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. When the twin towers collapsed my heart collapsed for those killed, their families and loved ones. My entire being was imbued with purpose and I set forth on my path with newfound resolve. It is in this manner that I found myself en route to a hospital in Iraq to capture a terrorist who being harbored there.
I gathered my squad and briefed them on the mission; they stoically accepted their orders raced to the Hospital.
Earlier that day the terrorist attacked our outpost, firing with furious determination and blessed inaccuracy. We returned fire injuring him, despite this he desperately ran away and disappeared into an alley. Frustrated, we returned to post. Now as we sped to the Hospital, my blood raced. I didn?t know what to expect, already I had seen too much. This war torn county is a shock to one?s sensibilities. When you walk down the street, hordes of emaciated children follow you in hope will spare them food. As soon as you do so, you find yourself in a virtual quagmire of flesh, unable to move. Evidence of war was everywhere; the streets...