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 jazz or swing and
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 then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.
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.
*NOTE* This was sent as a forwarded email. I don't know who created it
and I don't take any credit for it. I put it on the Internet for you to see.
I have no opinion or comment that I would share with you at this time.