To me, war was the sound of an artillery round tearing the air as it went over. It was the bushes that began to move in my mind on a dark night during guard duty. It was chain smoking in the trenches while the ammo dump blew for hours. It was the rocket that missed us and hit a tent near ours and killed four guys whose only crime was walking around in the wrong place. It was a random, impersonal thing that went on all around me until my tour was over and I could go home. It was one of my friends who never came back, and I had to type a condolence letter to his parents.It was heat and cold, dust and mud, anger and loneliness, and always wondering why we were there in the first place.
