Personal Narrative-Where Are We Going Again?

As the smell of diesel fuel filled my nose every breath I took and the sound of Five Finger Death Punch filled my ears, I thought about what was back home. The green grass, my bed, my wife, my dog Barrett, and the smell of bacon. While I was day dreaming, my squad leader, Glenn Martin, we call him Roman, shook me out of my dream of the sweet treats that can only be found in America. “We’re going into a red zone. The last thing this team needs is for somebody to be shot while they don’t even realize.” “Roger, Sir… So where are we going again?” “In one side of Baghdad and out the other, but while we’re in there, we will be taking any form of insurgency out and clearing a path so that we can set up base here.” “Hoo-ah,” I said as he gave me a slap on the shoulder and headed back to his seat towards the front of the Mine resistant ambush Protected vehicle, “MRAP” for short. As of right now we were in a convoy of four MRAPs and 2 Abrams tanks in

The gunner of our jeep quit firing and yelled for me to hand him the m249 hanging on the rack. So i handed it to him and a bullet chain and he went to town in an instant, I almost felt as if he was enjoying this. But that being beside the point, he then quit firing and fell into the vehicle, he was hit in the left shoulder, barely missing his plate carrier. So Roman commanded someone to get back up top. So I took that role and grabbed the m249 and put a new chain in the chamber and peeked through the top. The armor around where the previous gunner was sitting was completely shredded and provided almost no protectiveness. So I look at Roman and tell him about the armor and he tells me to continue anyway. By this point the gunfire was dying down so I did as I was told without question. We had made it three blocks since we were first engaged and the hostility had died