Like many veterans of the Iraq War, I've been glued to the TV lately, and like many of my brothers and sisters-in-arms I've been extremely saddened to see pictures of terrorists swarming all over Iraq's cities, stealing equipment and routing security units.
This isn't the Iraq I or my fellow veterans from the 372nd Military Police Company remember: the Iraq we remember was an orderly place — one of dark cellars full of naked screaming men.
Now I have to wonder: was our sacrifice worth it just to ensure that thousands of prisoners were properly threatened with rape or terrorized by working dogs? I don't know if anyone can answer that question.
I first came to Iraq in May of 2003 and left one year later and even today I remember it like it was yesterday. The smell of a prisoner who just shit himself in fear, the feel of a brand-new leash as we buckled it around his neck, the tender touch on my wife's shoulder as we forced two grown men to masturbate each other at gunpoint. These are memories that even time and age can't fade.
