In Response to Christina Fonseca Post on Veterans and happiness. Post 2

My experience in combat was not unique at all. I was a combat engineer attached to Scout/Snipers with 3rd Light Armored Reconnaissance out of 29 Palms, California. We entered into Iraq on the night of March 18, 2003 and i departed August 15, 2003.  At the time of my deployment my unit had seen, we were told, more combat than any other unit in the entire Marine Corps. I have witnessed the atrocities of war, and i will spare you all the details, but take my word, war is not fun, it is not romantic, it is not glamorous. Even when it is the enemy, there is nothing victorious in death. Death seems to trump everything. The macabre quintessence of death takes everything from life. But war is not all death. Death is but one element of war. A letter to a Marine, and I'm sure its the same with soldiers, is like gold. The happiness that overwhelms you when you receive a letter from your girlfriend, or parents, or best friend is something that cannot be explained. A simple piece of paper with the writing of a loved one on it will transport you from the cadaverous components of war onto a cumulus cloud. If that letter just so happens to smell like your loved one, be assured that he or she will have their nose buried in it every chance they get, it is the greatest smell on the planet, nothing else even comes close. I got the opportunity after the seize fire to help rebuild some of the schools. This experience was unique. Myself and one other combat engineer got selected to go to the local schools that were damaged and see what we could repair. There is something eerily strange about walking into an elementary school with a loaded M-16, but even more strange was how we got mobbed like rockstars by the kids…while holding loaded M-16s. The school children would circle around us and rip all the pictures of Saddam Hussain out. They would shred the pictures and sing and dance on top of the pieces of torn pages. They would chant "No, No, No Saddam. No, No, No Saddam". There wasn't much we could repair, the damage was too extensive in most of the schools, so we ended up just buying soccer balls for the kids to play with. The parents of some of the kids would offer us all kinds of gifts, including their daughters. They would hug and kiss us ecstatically. Getting kissed all over your face by another grown man is not something i or my fellow Marine were used to but its something i will never forget. After leaving the school the children would chase after us, running barefoot over rocks and through sewage, for miles. The happiness on the faces of those children and adults is something that i will never experience again. That much happiness can only come from extreme suffering, and is something that Americans may never feel. I recently had my "Iraq" 10 year reunion. Of the 30 Marines in my platoon, i was one of the few that did or does not have PTSD. The other Marine that was with me at the schools does not have it either. I have often wondered if we were spared because we were forded the opportunity to go to the schools. Our experience was not just war and death.  When i think about Iraq i do recall the tragic parts,  but i also think about all the great experiences with the schools and the kids. So i have to ask does that memory of happiness combat post traumatic stress?