Blind to the realities of modern war, Felix joins the Army for adventure, and hopefully combat. He is a fool, and soon learns that there is nothing “cool” about watching a man die.
Just a suburbanite punk from an average, middle class family, he spends his youth hunting and fishing, (mainly poaching and trespassing) racing dirt bikes, and playing sports. Basically, just anything to compete. Our author considers the chance to face another man in combat the ultimate competition. Serious misgivings arise however, when the ground war begins; and our hero finds himself in the lead element for the first wave of the ground assault.
This book was not written as a historical account of Operation Desert Storm, but rather a personal record, done from memory, and left for his children to read when they get old enough to understand what really happened. Not the one paragraph in their school text books, or the media’s version that there was “no resistance”.
The writer does not see himself as anything more than a pawn in a game he doesn’t understand. Surrounded by incompetence and bad decisions from those who outrank him, he tries his best to do his duty, while hopefully living long enough to get home in one piece. Having only been overseas a few months, Felix sees the true heroes to be those who served in Iraq and Afghanistan after 911. Those poor souls who pulled 18 month tours, or even multiple tours, how awful that must have been for them?
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