I guess I always knew what the Fourth of July meant. I had, after all, had the standard amount of American history classes in school. From what I can piece together and remember, it means hot dogs, fireworks and Ol' Glory. I knew that if you wore or displayed red, white and blue, then no one could question your patriotism; and that if you were truly a patriot, you agreed with your government no matter what.

When the war in Iraq broke out, in true patriotic fashion, I answered the call of my country. I went to fight them over there so I wouldn't have to fight them in Southern California. My experiences in Iraq changed how I view my own country and upbringing. I was mortified at how some of my fellow countrymen conducted themselves in our host countries and worse, I didn't want to believe that my country would willingly get engaged in something so… pointlessly bloodletting.

And all under the guise of something so noble! I had wanted to give the Iraqi people the same freedoms that we here in America enjoy… or freedoms I thought we enjoyed. Now I'm not so sure. My Platoon Sergeant confided in me that the war in Iraq took everything he thought he knew about America and crushed it. I responded by telling him that my feelings on the subject were similar.

I realized, late in life but not too late, that the Fourth of July has another name - Independence Day. The day our forefathers saw fit to cast off the shackles of a government that was not representing its people and establish, for themselves, the government they deserved; because they realized, they knew, that only they had that power.

The Fourth of July, Independence Day, will from here on remind me of a time when we, as countrymen and as Americans, realized that our government has the power and only the power that we allow. It's a lesson we were forced to learn more than 230 years ago and, in typical American fashion, it may be a painful part of our history that we are forced to learn again.