I turned 19 in May 1982. Life was beautiful. I was in love. I was then asked to leave for a military base and to be the marksman in the first tank to cross the Lebanese border. It was supposed to be a straightforward mission, over in a day. But it was a day of hell. I'd never killed anyone before that terrible day. I became a true killing machine. Something died in me there that day. Getting my head out of that tank has taken me more than twenty years. This is my story.