He's
a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average
student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives
a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that
either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be
waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens
to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and
a 155mm howitzer.
He
is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home
because he is working or fighting from before dawn to
well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter
writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle
in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun
or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if
he must.
He
digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid
like a professional.
He
can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he
is told to march.
He
obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but
he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
He
is self-sufficient.
He
has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the
other.
He
keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He
sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to
clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his
own hurts.
If
you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if
you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition
with you in the midst of battle when you run low..
He
has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons
like they were his hands.
He
can save your life - or take it, because that is
his job.
He
will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half
the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He
has seen more suffering and death than he should have
in his short lifetime.
He
has wept in public and in private, for friends who
have fallen in combat and is unashamed..
He
feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through
his body while at rigid attention, while tempering
the burning desire to 'square-away ' those around him
who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or
even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day
out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just
as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather,
he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or
not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man
that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He
has asked nothing in return, except our friendship
and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has
earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And
now we even have women over there in danger, doing
their part in this tradition of going to War when our
nation calls us to do so.
As
you go to bed tonight, remember this shot. . ... A
short lull, a little shade and a picture of
loved ones in their helmets.
'Lord,
hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them
as they protect us. Bless them and their families for
the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of
need. Amen.'
