The War Begins

You recall the night the second Iraq war started.

You sit in your local bar drinking Buds and shots of Maker’s Mark whiskey.

The folks at the bar celebrate the start of the war. Patriotic songs play continuously on the jukebox.

You’ve had your doubts about the war.

Jimmy, the bartender, serves you another Bud and a shot. He’s an ex-Marine like you.

“You know, it’s going to be real easy getting in there, but it is going to be Hell getting out. Fighting in those narrow streets is going to be a fucking nightmare,” Jimmy says.

“Amen, brother,” you say.

You are drunk and stupid.

The rest of the night you think about your 384 days at Camp Book in Vietnam.

Jimmy was right. You were right. The sober and smart people running the war were wrong.