I was born in southern California and moved to Kentucky in the sixth grade. I had a kid in high school, struggling to pay bills, and working 50 hours a week. That didn't cut it, so I started selling weed. Eventually, I decided the only way to pay for my child, stay out of jail and make it to university was to join the army. I also knew that meant the chance I'd go to war, but I wanted to go to war; I wanted to be a hero and do something good.

The first war in Iraq started a month after I joined. I was in training for a year and was then sent to join them in Baghdad. At that time, I didn't really know why I was going, but I wanted to die for my country and make people proud of me, so I went without question.

I was deployed in Iraq from January 2004 to July 2004. As soon as I got to my unit, I started getting the low down from my fellow soldiers. They said everyone hated us there. I asked them what we were doing there then, and they said, "Just trying to stay alive and make it home."

April 10, 2004, I got hit by a roadside bomb. One of my friends had been hit too, but he got it worse and was discharged for being disabled. When I got my Purple Heart award, he was watching through a window in the other room because he was in pain and not a strong soldier anymore. While I was put on display and had a ceremony, he never had a ceremony.

The day my friend was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade, he fell on me and was spitting up blood, asking if he was going to die. I stood up to take his place in the fighting, aimed my weapon and pulled the trigger, but it was on safety mode. When the smoke cleared, I saw I was aiming my weapon at a 12-year-old kid. I still have nightmares about almost killing that boy.

An hour later, a two hundred pound roadside bomb blew up in my face. It was like being in the eye of a tornado. I felt burning in my side and pulled out a piece of shrapnel and fell down inside the howitzer thinking I was going to die. I took off my gear, the whole time thinking I was going to die. But I didn't-so then I took my place back up top and kept on fighting. I do believe if I had killed that kid, that the roadside bomb would have done me in. And even if it didn't I would have had to do it myself, because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.

The worst thing I saw? That's hard to say. I know three soldiers that beat a prisoner to death. I know other guys that killed whole families - not because they wanted to, but because they were following orders. But the worst thing? Probably when I saw a five-foot tall girl holding a six-foot tall man's stomach in her hands while he was dying.

The most beautiful thing I remember is they way the Iraqi people live through all that and somehow stay happy and loving each other. I've never seen people love each other so much until I went to Iraq. They are the strongest people I've ever seen in my life.

******

When I found out I was going to be sent back to Iraq this time around, I knew it was all just a lie. I don't even want to waste my breath explaining why it's an illegal war, because if someone is too stupid to see why for themselves, then I don't think they'll ever understand. I knew there was just no way I could go back and follow orders without killing innocent people and be able to live life after that. I have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) so bad just from one tour. I have nightmares and can't work. When I was back home in Kentucky, it was hard to even leave the house.

I was in no state to face the army and go to jail, and I didn't want to hide out at home either. I'd heard of other soldiers that were in Canada, and I thought I could help open the door for other soldiers because I was the first resister that had been to Iraq.

I arrived in Canada in January 2005. My parents drove me through the night in the middle of a snowstorm. I used my driver's license to get in and just told customs I was going shopping for a few days. Once I was in, I immediately applied for refugee status. Going to Canada was freedom. I spoke the truth to people and they listened. With the help of the War Resister Support Campaign, I was able to find housing with a Quaker lady and stayed with her for eight months while I got on my feet.

Life in Canada is way more peaceful, more democratic and less violent. They have free health care and it's just a better place to be. Still, Canadians think they are better and smarter than Americans, but they still have a conservative government and are in Afghanistan for all the wrong reasons. Afghanistan is going to turn into Iraq. Canadians think their sh*t doesn't stink, but it does - it's just different sh*t.

I recently returned to the states to do some work with other war resisters in New Orleans. We were able to gut some houses and had a post-traumatic stress disorder workshop where we did peer counseling. I cried the whole way into New Orleans because this country is doing the same thing to my own people that they're doing to Iraqis. New Orleans looks worse than Baghdad.

But our bus is like magic. We broke down in Louisiana and were pushing it down an old road in the middle of nowhere. By luck, we found a dude that fixed it for free, and we had to drive all night to make up the time. It was so cold driving through the desert, I didn't think I was going to make it. By way of more magic, we made it all the way to California. We parked the bus in a parking lot, and for three or four hours, people kept coming up to support us and we even got free yoga lessons!

Right now I'm on this west coast tour with a group of vets - Iraq Veterans Against The War, or IVAW. The goal of our campaign is to organize a grassroots end to the war and bring the troops home. We support other war resisters and raise money to keep our bus going and set up a veterans housing project. We recruit and are basically are just taking this movement to the streets in any way we can. We park that bus anywhere we can make direct action.

We have an amazing group of four guys that are on the bus all the time, but guys come and go and we switch on and off because you burn out quick. I'll stay on the bus for another few months. We have Afghan vets, coast guards, marines, air force, army - every branch, we have members.

The road has been hard. We have two beds, a bunk bed and a few other places you can sleep, but to us, it's just another deployment. We've been trained to rough it, but this time, we're using our training to do good work.

My Canadian wife is on the bus with me, but it's so hard for me to love. After Iraq, you just feel numb to the world and it's hard to relate to people, let alone girls. My heart's turned cold sometimes except for the pain I feel. I just want to go live in a co-op with other vets where people understand my PTSD, because I can't fit into society no more. The only thing to stop this pain in my heart is to stop the war and bring those boys home. Then I want to go back to Iraq and help for real with love and peace, not bombs and death.

The day I stepped foot in Baghdad, Darrell Anderson died. I never came back from Iraq because my soul is still in that sand underneath all that pain. The best thing we can do is pull out altogether and give the people of Iraq the freedom to decide the fate of its own country. As much as I hate George Bush, I would rather die than let some other country invade us to change our government the way they saw fit. No one wants to be occupied. Only the people of a country have that right, and that's how the world should work. In the meantime, we just keep the bus rolling. Peace and much love.

Darrell.

*****

To learn more about the War Resisters Support Campaign,
Click Here [1]