Brave soldier? More like freak with PTSD

I awoke with a start and realised that I had had one of the worst nightmares of my entire life.

In the dream, as I explained to my psychiatrist, I was walking down the questionably silent street of 56th Avenue. I usually went grocery shopping there. All of a sudden, hundreds of gunmen appeared from behind trees and bushes and started firing at me. This is when I woke up with beads of perspiration on my forehead.

' Very well.' was all the psychiatrist said as he scribbled down something on his pad.

His calmness irritated me. I had just confessed to him about my terrible nightmare, and all he could say was, ' very well'?

'Okay, Sergeant Walker, I will meet you next Tuesday as usual. Please call me if you have anything you would like to tell me or ask me. '

As I walked out of his clinic which was wallpapered with smiling suns and sunflowers that flashed toothy grins at butterflies, I noticed for the first time that there was a coffee shop right down the street. After my excruciating session with Dr. Miller, I could definitely use the extra caffeine. I ordered for a latte with extra foam and sat down in the corner of the shop.

It was not crowded, but I could find a few people. There was a lady with a laptop on the table and was furiously typing on it. There was another group of teenagers who laughed way too loudly at everything, including themselves.

I decided to maintain a secretive disposition and refrained from angrily glancing at the annoyingly loud teenagers.

As I sipped my latte,my thoughts drifted back to the 90s. Oh! The 90s. It was probably the best and the worst time of my life. 'Best' because I learnt some things which I would never have learnt than through experience. 'Worst' because I spent it in Iraq and killed a million people.

Yeah, I lived in Iraq. I should probably give you a flash back, or whatever.

On the 21st of August in 1991, I decided that I wanted more than anything else, to join the army. Now, I don't want to get into all the unnecessary details, but let's just say that I somehow persuaded my parents and wife that it was the right thing to do.

After I joined the army, I trained rigorously and I slowly learnt to live the army life. A few months later, the Major called me aside and told me that I was going to be deployed to Iraq because there was a war there. Apparently, I was needed to fight for my country there.

So I packed my bags and left for Iraq.