Chapter 1

I was getting dressed to go to the Fourth of July party. I recently returned home from the service. I was asked to wear my uniform with my latest medals. You see, I was considered a hero in our town.

I don't see myself as a hero; I just did what any soldier would have done in my situation. I'll try to explain exactly what happened.

My squad was out looking for land mines and trying to help the citizens of the small village we were in. The terrorists had no problem killing their own people, let alone all the soldiers they could. I saw some kids playing in the street and noticed what looked like a land mine. It was the type that when you stood on it and then stepped off of it, it would go off. Just as one of the kids was about to step on it, I quickly pushed him aside and was laying on it myself. I knew it would go off when I moved to get off of it. I told all the kids to get away and as they ran I yelled for one of the other soldiers for help. Our plan was for them to put a steel mesh blanket over me and as I rolled off the small mine it would go off but I would be somewhat protected by the steel mesh blanket.

As everyone moved back to a safe distance, I rolled quickly off the small land mine as it went off. I felt some shrapnel hit the blanket and it hurt like hell. Other than being bruised up I felt alright. Everyone cheered and the medic said I had a piece of shrapnel stuck in my thigh. He wrapped it and the lieutenant told me to take his jeep and go back over to the med-center which was in the next town over a few miles away.

While I was driving I saw what seemed to be a terrorist group in jeeps and a tank approaching. I quickly pulled off the road behind a small hill. I needed to warn my squad. Apparently our lookouts were from the terrorist group and infiltrated as citizens out to help us. I wasn't sure what to do, so after they passed by me and were a good distance away, I headed back toward the small city right behind the terrorists. I needed to warn my squad.

You need to know that I didn't feel like a hero. This was my family now; my squad, my fellow soldiers, my band of brothers. I needed to warn them but how? As the enemy was approaching the small town, I saw a man stand up with binoculars in the tank. I knew he was going to sight in on the town and do whatever damage he could. I took out my rifle and when I was within shooting distance, I aimed my rifle and shot the sight man in the back of the neck. As he slumped over the tank driver stopped his vehicle. I took out two hand grenades and drove up to the tank and threw them, one into the opening of the tank and the other at a nearby vehicle, putting it out of commission.

I was being shot at but just kept driving toward the small town. The element of surprise was all that I had. The explosion of the grenades and the shooting of the rifles alerted my brothers and sisters in combat. By the time I made it to the town, they had the citizens in hiding and were prepared for combat.

I didn't realize that my leg had started bleeding again because of all the movement. As I pulled into the town I must have blacked out from the loss of blood. When I came to, I was in the med-center and my leg was bandaged up and the shrapnel removed. My sergeant came in and said I was considered a hero. Because of my coming back and alerting the unit and the town about the terrorists, the town was saved. There was minimal damage.

We had a reporter imbedded with our unit and he wrote to his newspaper about me. It was the start of the heroism thing, first about saving the kids and then alerting the town by putting my life on the line. I received a purple heart for the injury and the bronze star for saving the town.

I have to tell you, I don't think I did anything that any other soldier wouldn't have done in the same circumstances. As I mentioned, we were family, we were a band of brothers. I would risk my life any day for these soldiers.

As I drove to the Fourth of July celebration, I wondered if my old girlfriend would be there. We were a couple in our senior year of high school.

After we graduated she was going off to college and I was headed into the service. I played football but wasn't good enough for a career in it, even though I could probably have played college ball. Sara, my old girlfriend, loved the limelight. She was a cheerleader and wanted to be around the jocks. I thought we would be together forever, I really did. We had this chemistry together. Before I left for boot camp, we made love. It was the first time for me and I gave it everything I had. I did everything that I could to make her come time and time again. For me it is something I will never forget. I headed off to boot camp thinking I had a girlfriend. She wrote to me at least once a week, telling me about the college life and how she couldn't wait to see me when I got home from boot camp.

I came home for a couple of weeks but only got to see Sara one time since she was a college cheerleader and had games to go too and had to study the rest of the time. She did come home on the Sunday before I had to head back to camp. We made love again but it wasn't quite the fireworks of the last time, although it was still very good. Sara did seem a bit distant.

I headed off to camp and to find out where I was being sent. I was being sent to another army base for more intense training. Our squad was being sent to Afghanistan. We had more months of training and then we headed out on our assignments. My letters from Sara were fewer and fewer. Then one day I received a Dear John, letter. At first it didn't seem different because my name was John and I expected a normal letter. Then I read the letter.

Sara had found a boyfriend. She was pregnant with his child and they would be getting married. He was a senior and would be graduating soon. Of course he was a college jock and would be working in his father's business. It was some type of sales job. I really didn't give a shit what this guy did. I really did care about Sara. She said she was going to finish out the semester and then take a leave for a while until after the birth of their baby.

It was the last letter I received from her until last year. My so-called heroism reached all the local and even some of the national papers. I received letters from a lot of people. It felt good to know that the people backed the troops. I was opening all this mail when I came across Sara's letter. She said how she was so happy and proud of me. She told me she had made a big mistake by marrying Ralph, and couldn't wait for me to get home so she could see me.

I was stunned to read her letter. I spent two years getting over her and now I receive this letter. I didn't answer it: I had no idea what I was going to do if and when I saw her.

I headed to the fairgrounds where the celebration was taking place. I couldn't believe it. There, strung over the entrance to the fairgrounds was a banner saying, "Welcome Home, John Davis!!! Our Hometown Hero."

It brought tears to my eyes. I had no idea that this celebration was being held in my honor. At least in honor of the troops that fought and were still fighting this war.

As I entered the gates, many people were lined up to greet me. The first in line was my crying and proud mother. Next to her was my step-father who raised me (more about my parents later). My two half-sisters and their families were there also. I have no idea how many people were there - hundreds, if not more, people at the festival.

I walked around standing proud in my uniform saying 'hi' to everyone I saw. A lot of the people I knew and a lot more I didn't. It was good to see a lot of other men and women in uniform. In my book every person in uniform is a hero. They put their life in jeopardy every day to help protect others and do the best they can to keep our country safe. I ended up giving a little speech and told all of the crowd about the real heroes.