When I first joined the U.S. Army at 18, I put down my rifle, bow, traps and shotgun and picked up an M-16A1 rifle. For an infantryman, shooting is a critical skill. I was amazed to find that many, even most, of my fellow recruits had never fired a weapon. I was astounded by that, since growing up I went from a BB gun to a single-shot .22 to a single-shot .410 on up. My father taught me and my brothers right when he insisted we all learn how to handle firearms safely and that we start with a single-shot weapon. Make that first shot count.

As I grew older hunting the North Woods of Wisconsin, I learned how to sit still for hours at a time, how to blend into the shadows, to always have a backdrop breaking up my ?silhouette. Still-hunting for whitetail deer taught me many lessons: move slowly; watch your step; look for the flick of an ear, the glint of an antler, the outline of a deer's back. Look through the forest""not at it. Simply be as observant of your surroundings as you can possibly be.

When we started patrolling, it was obvious most soldiers were not used to walking in the woods. I learned at a very young age some easy lessons that many of my comrades had yet to learn: don't follow too closely or you'll catch a branch in the face; movement is easier to spot; use the shadows; walk on the balls of your feet.

When my father, brothers or I shot game, whether it was grouse, snowshoe hare, deer or bear, I observed life leaving the animal. I saw what was inside. I am not ashamed to say that I cried the first time I shot a young spike buck when I was 11 years old. It taught me about much more than just harvesting that young buck; it also taught me about life and death""how precious life is and the finality of death.

Hunting has, without a doubt, played a great role in making me the infantry soldier I am now. I currently am fighting in the streets of Mosul in northern Iraq. Where I am stationed is surely not the woods of northern Wisconsin or Alaska, but an urban jungle. However, the skills I learned through trial and error in those woods have helped keep me and my fellow soldiers alive.

The lessons I learned as a young man hunting are as poignant now as they were back then. Probably more so, since what I'm hunting shoots back! The enemy here leaves sign""they can't help it much more than a big buck can. Just as that buck leaves tracks, the enemy sniper leaves footprints in old, dusty buildings. The enemy's muzzle blast blows dust and sand off the broken windowsill. The enemy can't hide his caches without disturbing something""dug-up ground, torn-up vegetation. Instead of animal scat, we find empty shell casings.

Just as rubs or scrapes let you know a buck is working the area, an IED blast lets you know the enemy is working the area. Choose a building or a piece of terrain with good fields of fire, good routes in or out with cover and concealment. Getting to your hide site undetected is very similar to getting to your deer stand. Then be patient. Many big-game animals have walked through an area undetected simply because the hunter did not have the patience or discipline to hold fast and wait. As there is a profound sense of accomplishment upon killing a nice buck, there is an even greater sense of accomplishment in killing an insurgent who was in the act of emplacing an IED. As a hunter you've provided food for your family. As a soldier you've allowed your men a secure route. Both indeed sustain life.

The transition from hunting to being an infantryman is natural and almost seamless; however, failure in a hunter's mission rarely brings about his death in the modern world, whereas failure in an infantryman's mission can mean death for him and his buddies.

I've found throughout my military career that hunters make the best soldiers. Skilled in