(innocence lost, cont.)

Lounging by the pool in Florida and getting fresh towels every morning, I learned, was a stark contrast to life in Baghdad. Amid the constant threat of bombings and attacks on American troops, Laura and fellow guard members “lived in a building that was bombed out,” she says. “We had to clear up the rubble and then set up the cots. There was a huge wall blown out, but it was a roof over our heads.”

The desert heat was beastly. Working a 12-hour night shift, Laura avoided patrolling the police station during the 140-degree daytime hours; however, nights only dropped down to 120-degrees. After Laura completed her shift, she tried to sleep but notes, “you would wake up drowning in your sweat. It was insane how hot it was.”

Laura and Carlye’s friendship was one thing that kept them going. “It helped a lot that we were such good friends,” Laura says. “We could tell each other anything. But I also worried about her a lot.”

We all worry about our friends, but most of us do not have to worry about them being thrown into life-threatening situations every day. Laura and Caryle’s friendship would be tested in dramatic fashion on a quiet, routine day in May 2003.

“We were driving back from the station and a roadside bomb hit her Humvee,” Laura recalls. “It was hard to keep calm and do what I’m supposed to do when all I wanted to do was check on Carlye.”

The experience of being hit by that bomb will stay forever with Carlye. She received a Purple Heart for her bravery – and she will carry shrapnel in her arm for the rest of her life and her hearing is “pretty bad.” At night, Carlye says, she hears “sirens” in her head while she tries to sleep, a permanent effect from the explosion. “[The bomb] pretty much knocked me out,” she says. “It was a big one, we got lucky — no one was hurt really bad. I got hit and knocked out and then my drill sergeant was pulling me out of the truck and patching me up.

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