My mother woke me up that morning as the second tower was hit. She was concerned because about then people began to realize it wasn't random or isolated. She said "you're supposed to go down town today to sign your enlistment papers, what are you going to do?" I answered with a level of confidence which I didn't posses, "go down and sign them, this doesn't change a thing". But it did of course. I signed into the 3rd I.D. On April 1st, 2002 after basic training. In January 2003 we were told we would be going to Kuwait to stage in case Saddam refused President Bush's demands. On March 20th we crossed the border, I was only a PFC then. I was lucky though, not even a scratch although roughly 10% of our company was killed or wounded in a 3 day period taking and holding the Saddam Airport. SFC Smith, our 2nd Platoon, Platoon Sergeant (I was in 3rd) would receive the Medal of Honor fighting there. (Back then I was a combat engineer before I went to the Cavalry Scout side). For years the aftermath of the attacks played out as the setting for my young-adult life. A year home, a year there, for 4 tours over 8 years. My oldest son was 3 months old before I could get home to meet him, and then only for 2 weeks before I headed back for 6 more months. He was 9 months old before I really knew him. My youngest is 7 years apart from his brother - I was determined to be there as much as I could this time, for their sake, my wifes sake, my sake. So we waited out a war to have another. None of this is complaining, I type this now from the back of a Bradley Fighting Vehicle at Ft benning where I train young armor lieutenants. I love my calling, but it, like many things, leave their mark with time. So yes, we will never forget, because we will never let them forget.