Hello, my name is Destiny M. Hart. At the time of writing this story I am 17 years old. In the book you are about to read has stories about my life and starting from September 11th, 2001 and ending when I feel this book can hold no more stories. This book was is inspired and in response to the book Ghosts of War: The True Story of a 19 Year Old GI by Ryan Smithson.
I dont remember much about the terrorist attacks on Tuesday September 11th 2001. All I remember was walking into my music teacher's class room to see her in tears watching buildings falling down on the TV in the classroom. Later the school made an announcement about recess being canceled due to too many misquitos. At the end of my day at school my dad picked me up early and took my sister and I home. The last thing I remember from that day is my Uncle "Eugie" sitting on the table at my sisters third birthday party watching the 5 o'clock news, looking at my father and saying "Hey jimmy come look at what these mother fuckers did to the Twin Towers in New York." That memory still haunts me to this day, it one of the most haunting and emotion-filled memory I have of my childhood.
Five years later, my father was sent to Iraq for the Navy. While he was there my step mother gave birth to my youngest sister, Seirra (the phonetic letter "S") and my sister Kadence (named after a cadence, the marching that is done in the military) had her first birthday. I also started thinking about what my purpose in life was. I didnt know that one day my experiences would inspire two books, countless poems and songs, but most importantly it inspired me to be a supporter of the United States military.
After he came hom efrom Iraq he wasnt the same person as he was when he left. I did not (and in some cases do not) know what he wittnessed or what he had been through while he was there. It wasnt until several years later that I learned just small bits of what he had been through. I know I will never know everything that had happened to him and his friends, but from what I have heard or read from various scorces I know it was terrible.
People think they know who is effected by war, thinking it is soldiers and the families that stand behind him, but everybody is effected. It seems that the only people who write stories about what happens during war times are the soldiers or journalists. I am neither, I am the daughter of a Navy Seabee. This is my story.
