Jessica Lynch Quotes

I had a story tell, a story that needed to be told so that people would know the truth.

Tales of great heroism were being told... at my parents home in Wirt County, West Virginia, it was understaged by media all repeating the story of the "little girl Rambo" from rural West Virginia who went down fighting. It was not true.

I was given opportunities not extended to my fellow soldiers, I embraced those opportunities to set the record straight.

When I remember those difficult days, I remember the fear, I remember the strength, I remember that hand of that fellow American soldier, reassuring me that I was going to be okay.

Rys’s gleeful laughter sends chills up and down my spine. He places one hand to his chest. “Is that how you greet your mate?” Not this garbage again. Seriously, I think this guy belongs in the asylum. It’s as clear a case of obsessive delusions as I’ve ever seen.

I lived the war in Iraq, and today I still have family and friends fighting in Iraq. My support for our troops is unwavering. I believe this is not a time for finger-pointing, it is a time for truth — the whole truth— vs. hype, and misinformation.

The bottom line is the American people are capable of determining their own heroes — ideals for heroes — and they don't need to be told elaborate lies.

My hero is every American who says "My country needs me" and answers that call to fight. I had the good fortune and opportunity to come home and to tell the truth; many soldiers, like Pat Tillman... did not have that opportunity. The truth of war is not always easy. The truth is always more heroic than the hype.

I'm not about to take credit for something I didn't do.

Maybe,” Rys says, giving his arm a jerk, “with this, you’ll start to things a little more clearly.

A group came to the hospital to rescue me. I could hear them speaking in English but I was still very afraid. Then a soldier came into the room. He tore the American flag from his uniform and he handed it to me in my hand. And he told me "We're American soldiers, and we're here to take you home." And I looked at him and I said "Yes, I am an American soldier too."

I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding since he started to move in my direction.

The cars ahead skated on a skim of water. The vivid red of countless tail lights, brake lights bobbed in the pitch-black night that stretched endlessly in front of them, the only sign that they weren’t alone in this storm. Sheets of rain fell sideways as it hammered down on the roof, a persistent drumbeat that even the radio couldn’t quite drown out.

I have repeatedly said, when asked, that if the stories about me helped inspired our troops and rally a nation, then perhaps there was some good. However, I am still confused as to why they chose to lie and try to make me a legend, when the real heroics — of my fellow soldiers that day — were legendary.

The nurses at the hospital tried to soothe me, and they even tried unsuccessfully at one point to return me to Americans.