In the Spring of 2005, my tank company was assigned to patrol a nice middle class suburb of Baghdad. My lieutenant liked to get off the tanks with an interpreter and walk around the neighborhood talking to people.

I was walking around the neighborhood with him one day. A kid, about 11 or 12 years old, was riding his bicycle down the street. Our eyes met and he stopped his bike. He asked me, "Mista, Mista! Why are you in my country?" I told him something about how Saddam was bad and had to go, we only wanted to make Iraq better.

I realized while I was speaking that it was a lie. I had seen the senseless deaths of Americans and Iraqis. I knew that killing people was wrong.