The war in Iraq began four years ago today. Fans at sporting events around the U.S. greeted the war and its early "shock and awe" bombing campaign with chants of "U.S.A.! U.S.A.!"

Jeffrey Lucey, who turned 22 the day before the war began, had a different perspective. He had no illusions about the glory or glamour of warfare. His unit had been activated and he was part of the first wave of troops to head into the combat zone.

A diary entry noted the explosion of a Scud missile near his unit: "The noise was just short of blowing out your eardrums. Everyone's heart truly skipped a beat. ... Nerves are on edge."

By the time he came home, Jeffrey Lucey was a mess. He had gruesome stories to tell. They could not all be verified, but there was no doubt that this once-healthy young man had been shattered by his experiences.

He had nightmares. He drank furiously. He withdrew from his friends. He wrecked his parents' car. He began to hallucinate.

In a moment of deep despair on the Christmas Eve after his return from Iraq, Jeffrey hurled his dogtags at his sister Debra and cried out, "Don't you know your brother's a murderer?"

Jeffrey exhibited all the signs of deep depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. Wars do that to people. They rip apart the mind and the soul in the same way that bullets and bombs mutilate the body. The war in Iraq is inflicting a much greater emotional toll on U.S. troops than most Americans realize. ...

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In the end, the story goes on, he hung himself with a garden hose in the cellar of his parents' home.

This is the kind of brutal end that is embraced by those who choose invasion and war as the first-line option. It is the price they don't see, like a teenager going crazy with a 17% credit card. The thing is, though, that those who don't know how the world works should not be entrusted with life-and-death decisions about it. It gets too ugly.

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