I was sitting outside my barracks at Fort Myer in Virginia, chatting with an Army buddy. He was talking, but I wasn’t really listening. My thoughts had taken over, and suddenly I was back in Iraq. I could practically feel the ever-present sand and hear the gunfire and frequent explosions. My heart pounded.
I was 20 years old. Serving in the Army was the only career I’d ever wanted. I thought the terrors that had plagued me since my return from combat would settle now that I’d been reassigned to the Old Guard, the Army’s ceremonial unit in D.C. But if I couldn’t control these intrusive thoughts, did I have any future in the military at all?
