How could I describe the disconnect between the soldier’s mission in Afghanistan and the Afghan’s desire to be left alone? How could I describe the terror I felt when I was crouching behind the tipped-over log, with bullets skimming the top of my head; the sadness of seeing Rougle’s body in a bag, of seeing these strapping American boys in their twenties reduced to tears and horror after being overrun by an enemy they never saw?
