My medics

It has been a long time since I was home. It seems that centuries have gone by and we are still in this desert. I wake up from dreams that seem too distant to matter. Nightmares hunt my sleep, it seems that my year in Iraq will be permanently implanted in my memories.
I hope that what we did here was worth the price we paid, and the Iraqis have paid a very high price for their freedom.
The soldier once in the battle field doesn't care about the reason for war, the only thing that matters is to stay alive. We could care less if the country is for or against this war, the only thing that we care about is the survival of the team, our team. Leave the politics to those who got elected, they will be judged by history and the Creator. We came here for a reason, the country called and we enlisted to do this job. If I survive this last days in Iraq I will for ever be remember by my fellow soldiers that were with me when the bullets came our way, I will remember the soldier's faces when the mortar rounds got closer and closer. I will remember their laughter once we realized that we were unharmed. I will forever remember the words that my medic, with blood on his uniform and hands, said; "I can not do this anymore." He was in tears after we lost two fellow Americans to a suicide bomber. My medics are heroes and my country will never know their names. There will never be recognition for their actions because that was their job. Their job was to patch them up and send them to a doctor for further treatment.
Many made the trip home alive, many were returned to duty, a few did not make it.
Many moons ago one of my medics was on a patrol that was hit by an IED. The gunner was burnt very bad, so bad that his ears had melted to his head. Two soldiers were killed that night. I saw my medic late that night; he showered, ate something, told me what had happened and went to sleep. After a few hours we heard on the radio that the burnt soldier was being flown out of Iraq, I went to the medic's cot and with a whisper I told him that the kid had made it and was going to live. He said thanks and went back to sleep. One out of three was the score that night. One was alive and two were not.
I am tired of war, this is my third conflict and I just hope to make it out of this one in one piece.
Good night USA, I hope to be home, in your arms, in just two months.