The body armor and equipment weight down your fatigued body. Just the day prior you argued with your wife on your first 10 minute call you had in a month. Your nose no longer detects the horrid stench of your comrades who haven’t showered in weeks. Everyone’s ripped uniforms are barely held together by tape and pathetic sewing jobs. You just want the patrol to be over so you can finish the hours of guard sure to follow and hopefully get some sleep. If only…BOOM! Suddenly your exhausting, boring, and very monotonous world is interrupted by a swift burst of unwanted violence. Welcome to the Triangle of Death, what the Iraqis called the Graveyard of the Americans.
Peer closely into an infantryman’s first hand accounts based on the journal that the author kept during his deployment to Iraq from 2006-2007. He does not hide the ugliness of war, but tells of the worst things it brings out in us, as well as our best.
When all Hell breaks loose it is easy to wonder where God is. Often he is not in the wind, earthquake, or fire raging around us, but in the gentle whisper that follows.