Missiles fire, bullets cleave through the air, smoke wavers on the horizon, dust trails in the distance, nothing but fear clashing with courage in the middle, engines revving so loud one cannot even hear oneself think and a sun hot enough to set an arctic tundra ablaze.

It was not easy being a part of the first few battalions to cross the border into Iraq, but Private First Class Jay Sherwood ('02) did what he had to do.

Guarded by tanks and humvees mounted with .50 caliber machine guns, a convoy of United States Marine Corps blazed through the scorching Iraqi sand.

These were no ordinary soldiers. While other branches of the military take orders from Congress, these gunners got their directions straight from the top.

When you are men of the President, you are expected to carry yourself better than any other branch of the military. Fear is not an option.

"We went in firing hard," said Sherwood. "It's scary. The first thing we did is we bombed. You cross the lines, and all you see is smoke. I was thinking about my family and if I'm going to come back alive."

The Marines didn't stop. Any breath too soon or too late, any blink of the eye, any turn of the head could cost a life. So they flew on through, stations manned, angles covered, sweat glistening down the forehead, the taste of salt accumulating at the lips.

They set up camp within hostile territory, conspicuously intruding among terrorists and anti-American sentiments.

Scud missiles explode, alarms sound. Sherwood rushes to put on his gas mask and runs to the berms, unsure of where the missiles may strike. By this point, reaction is instinctive. He knows the potential damage that these gases and chemicals could cause.

Sherwood has learned a lot about life and himself since joining the military. But that summer of 2002, when Sherwood enlisted into the United States Marine Corps for four years, he knew what he was getting himself into.

Kin to former members of the Marine Corps, Sherwood felt obligated to follow in the path of his father and uncles. Three months of boot camp ensued, in which Sherwood was subjected to intense mental and physical pain.

"They pretty much break you down," said Sherwood of his not-so-basic training. "It's both mental and physical stress."

Waking up at four in the morning everyday was no walk in the park, either, but life lessons were learned.

"You don't realize what you have until you see how these people live in Iraq… They live in mud huts, have shaggy clothes, are very poor [and eat] pretty much nothing," said Sherwood. "You see all these little kids running up to the car… You feel bad for these people and children, but you can't feel too bad because you don't know who to trust."

Sherwood plans to eventually earn a college degree, but since he is part of an infantry battalion he is always deployed, leaving little time for the classroom.

Yet amidst all the turmoil and chaos abroad, the occasional ray of light will penetrate the scorched sky and send a familiar yet infrequent smile across a soldier's face.

Sherwood bore witness to the removal of one of Saddam's statues. A euphoric feeling came across him as he marveled at the cheers and thumbs-up from Iraqis and fellow soldiers.

"I was extremely proud. I love my country very much," said Sherwood.

And because of his service, his country loves him, too.