"One Soldier" is in Iraq, writing about his experiences there searching for IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices.) This is from his blog. We'll post entries from it now and then, to help us all see at least one person's view of the situation over there.

My leg shakes every single time. There are butterflies in my stomach and my palms sweat even in the dry heat of the desert. Every time I go over the wire--go outside of the base--I get the same feeling as you would expect at the beginning of a rollercoaster. The taut back, the gnawing acid pit in the bottom of your gut, the overarching sensation that "something" is about to happen. I don't talk to other Marines about it but I am convinced that everyone experiences the same sensation.

Looking out the double-pane bullet-proof glass of my HMMWV the other night, I watched the wall grow in the green light of my night-vision goggles as we maneuvered around the jersey barriers that line the entrance to base. We travel with our lights out at night for safety; it makes us much more difficult targets. The steady curfew that has been in effect for the past 2 years means that we are almost always the only ones out on the road.

Rolling into Fallujah at 2 in the morning, our only company is the horde of stray dogs that survive on the city's rubbish. My team unloads at the graveyard for a short patrol. By this time, the shakes are gone. We are in mission mode. All talking has ceased. From here, we will use only hand signals. After the convoy leaves, the city is silent but for the dogs barking.

Tombstones glow white-green, radiating the heat accumulated during the day. Graves are shallow and closely packed, forcing us to move over mounds of dirt, squeezing between uneven rows. The wealthy deceased have massive cages erected around their tombs in a vain effort to stymie grave robbers. Their bars are now bent and warped by the crowbars of a hundred desperate individuals, cut loose from the pacts of civilization by the depravity of war.

We finish our sweep earlier than scheduled and need to find the cover of shadows while we wait for the convoy to return. At a break in the far cemetery wall, we move quickly, one by one covering each other's movement, to the far side of the alley, out of the light of the moon.

Once we press ourselves against the wall, we instinctively arrange in a two fore and two aft defensive position to wait for the return of the vehicles. It is unspoken but no one will move now unless we have to. The silence is deafening. We do not shift positions. We do not adjust our packs. After 5 minutes, we hear a baby crying in the house in front of our position.

After 10 minutes, the intra-squad radio crackles to life as the convoy comes back into range. Through whispered brevity codes, we verify where we are in relation to them so that they do not shoot us when we emerge. Then it is quick, snappy movements back to the vehicle. As we reach the doors and quickly pile back in, two shots ring out from behind us. We do not pay them much attention as most people shoot high at night. Once we close the door to our HMMWV-cum-armored tank, small arms fire is not of great concern. And our mission is complete.

----http://www.onestepforward.org--- -Reprinted with permission-