I remember 17 July 2014

            There are many memories that I have experienced in my short life. Some good, and some bad. The past five years have been a roller-coaster of these memories. I notice that myself always relating assignments I am given to my military service. In early 2011 I was shot at by a Taliban sniper in southern Afghanistan. This being a not-so-good memory, it is still something that I would like to always remember so that I will appreciate life more because that day I was about a foot from losing my life.

            Our company had been in Afghanistan since November of 2010, steadily conducting convoys to many forward operating bases (FOB’s) in the southern region of the country. My role was the M2 50 caliber machine gun operator in the first truck in the convoy. For operational security purposes, I won’t say where we were coming from and where we were going. I remember the very distinct smell of the local afghan trucks that is simply indescribable. The feel of the warm wind in my sweaty face as we traveled at around 40MPH through the city streets

            The weight of my tactical vest pulling on my shoulders as I hear that crack of a seven point six-two rifle unexpectedly on my left side followed by the wizz of the bullet traveling over my head impacting with the rundown, concrete building to my right. The crack of my back was felt as I twisted my gun turret in the direction of the shot as fast as I possibly could, like my life depended on it….. Oh wait, it did. As I was staring down the dark, Smokey alleyway I could feel the butterfly shaped trigger of my loaded, safety off weapon, waiting to send the bullet out of the long, heavy barrel and send the person who just tried to kill me to hell.

            Looking into the alleyway at nothing, he wasn’t there. He left as fast as he had shot, he was waiting for a U.S. convoy to come through the city and take a pop shot at the gunner on top of the first truck. Sometimes they are successful at this cowardly tactic but fortunately they failed this time. Later, going through the same spot we had taken a rough measurement of how far the bulley had traveled over my head and we came up with 12-15 inches. Coming that close to certain death may not be a memory that a lot of people would like to remember, but for me, it is something that happened and I can never change it. It reminds me that I am lucky to be here and to appreciate the time that I have here on this planet.