In addition to hitting American Soldiers, this bomb hit children. Their parents, instead of hiding away with their children, collected them and rushed frantically screaming and wailing to the American Soldiers. There were flames and smoke and the crackling of fire and the smell of fuel and flesh. More children were brought to the Soldiers. One little girl named Farah was badly wounded. Several Soldiers huddled around Farah treating her, and then Major Mark Bieger wrapped Farah in a blanket to get her to a hospital.
The Soldiers loaded Farah into a fighting vehicle and rushed her away but she died. This was one day of many like it. On the scale of the war, it was small: only three people killed if you include the attacker.
The Iraq war is over for the people who were never in it, but it will never be over for those who were. Of these experiences, little will remain other than the marble stones, the wounds, and the stories, most of which will go untold and will disappear nearly as quickly as they were lived. Our people are coming home.