SOLDIERS
There’s something about the sight of a soldier that summons all the best things in me to surface. Their presence commands respect because they inhabit genuine sacrifice. They stand up so we can rest easier. They run so others can walk. They protect so we can have peace. They fight so others can receive justice. They are the molders of mankind, pillars of history, stepping up in a dedication my lack of courage can barely comprehend.
In the midst of Iraq Study Group report, congressional Democratic takeover, and obsession with the 2008 presidential bids already stalking television stations, it’s too easy to lose sight of history, truth, justice, and possibility in this war. Everyone knows someone or many who have been deployed, probably more than once, by this time in the war. I think we sometimes forget the significance of such a sacrifice, and the goals of those men and women. Sadly, some of our leadership has disregarded the larger picture and the media continues to play for the wrong team. In light of this, it’s easy for a vulnerable public to become jaded, cynical, and grossly mislead to the wrong conclusions.
But there are some honest, honorable men to draw us back to truth in battle:
“War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.”
--John Stewart Mill—
As I watched the American soldiers in Mosul, Iraq interviewed on Hannity and Colmes a few nights ago, I was reinvigorated in my support for them and increasingly furious at the cynical, leftist, immature media that portrays things inaccurately and to their own liking. The men let it be known that they watch the American news and are unhappy with what is reported. They made it clear that victory is a reality that won’t be possible to see or understand for many years from now. Democrats, among others, want results now and that is simply impossible. The rationale voice will make choices based on what is logically possible, as well as historically and morally best for Iraq, America, and the world.
“Do you know what a soldier is, young man? He’s the chap who makes it possible for civilized folk to despise war.”
-unknown
The majority of the media represents the political left. Why are they intent on failure? They won’t even hope for the success, it seems in large part because they want President Bush to be wrong. They want this war to be wrong; they want to be right so badly that they will deny the reality. They and those who subscribe to their propaganda are those who embody the point of the quotes above.
“And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.”
--John F. Kennedy
At the wedding of a close friend this weekend, the groom and his men wore the uniforms of our country. In their Navy blues and Marine-pinned, gloriously starched and shiny-shoed outfits, I was among my heroes, a few of the many. Several of the men had recently returned from lengthy stints in Iraq. Brooke had waited painstaking months for the safe return of her fiancé. When I watched Abe take his mother’s arm down the aisle at the start of the ceremony, my first tear welled. I was proud of a man I barely knew and I was grateful to sit at his wedding as he pledged to love my friend for the rest of his life. He is a Navy SEAL, one of the toughest, bravest, strongest men in the entire world. I wish I owned such courage, such grit, such humility.
“Once we have a war there is only one thing to do. It must be won. For defeat brings worse things than any that can ever happen in war. “
--Ernest Miller Hemmingway—
From time to time, the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots.
--Thomas Jefferson—
An imperfect world littered with historical evidence stamps truth on these words. Years from today, I hope we will see how patient endurance in the face of opposition brought success. That will not be the case if we pull out, if we decrease security measures here, if we try to “talk” to countries with corrupt leadership and ties to terrorist groups. I may not be an expert from the Department of Defense, but it scares me that these senses, so simply common to me, aren’t registering with those who could hold our fate in their hands.
The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave...
--Patrick Henry—
Thank you for your everything, guys. This one especially goes out to my friend, Jeff Ripley, who is overseas and who I love and pray for. One of our heroes was killed last week and you can click below to see her tribute video. To Maj. Megan McClung, who was killed in Iraq on Dec. 6:
http://hotair.com/archives/2006/12/14/video-rip-maj-megan-mcclung/
In the spirit of this entry, I’m reprinting a dedication I wrote several years ago to a special soldier, Devin Grella, who was killed while serving in Operation Iraqi Freedom. My heart was touched and changed by his story.
The Thousandth Soldier
I was never meant to hear of a man named Devin Grella. I wasn’t supposed to read his name among a courageous and noble list, or see his face, a faded black and white in the newspaper. His eyes are forward, unsmiling, with a crew cut, and a youthful hope behind the fear and dedication streaming out of such a photo. I can picture thousands of these shots strewn among office desks and single ones framed on mantels. Photographs like these would cause me to take my hat off if I wore one, to let a second of silence overtake a hectic moment, and to feel an unexplainable innate sense of respect for men and women I’ve never even met. They are college students, restaurant employees, older brothers, mothers, fiancés, and musicians. They were prom kings and bookworms, the beautiful and the average, and among foreign soil they now stand unaware of the irrevelent difference, united in duty-called, and common sacrifice.
I’ve never laid eyes on Devin Grella. I don’t know what movies he loved, or what bittersweet memories he carried with him on the many planes and hours that brought him to a place he never dreamed he’d see his last sunset. I don’t know whose pictures and tattered letters he folded into his pockets at night, or whose face he thought of the second before his life ended. I wonder if his mother got to kiss him goodbye enough times the day he left the airport in Ohio. I can picture him signing his name to the Army papers just a few months ago, with a solid grip, not realizing he had sealed his own fate. I now envision his mother’s tears staining mounds of his smiles, frozen in photos of a timeless reality that will never feel the warmth of his breath again, in a world that won’t ever hear his laughter. I cherish my silly moments, my unforgettable nights with best friends, even my hurts and heartbreaks. And I wonder, speeding through the film of Devin’s life, what moments meant the most to him, and what moments will never be, what birthdays and vacations he won’t see.
Devin was a member of the 10-man squad unit supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom in Tijit, Iraq. My friend Jeff, squad leader, shook hands with Devin two months ago, sealing a friendship that would lead Jeff to Ohio to hug a mother whose son would never say I love you again. Jeff is flying over the Atlantic Ocean right now, snug in his Army uniform, impatient with desire and excitement to see the fiancé who has been waiting for him nine months. He will walk through Indianapolis International Airport hailing a thick shadow of esteem. He will, in complete humility, represent the spirit and the sacrifice of a fallen comrade. I can’t think of a man who could better gratify this life lost in military service. Just last week he probably spoke to Devin about coming home for a two-week leave, after a long, 9-month stint. He probably told him about his beautiful and supportive fiancé Sara, one of many women waiting in fearful expectation, clinging daily to the news and their cell phones in apprehension. These men risked their lives together on missions and talked about the future beneath bright Middle Eastern moons. Though Jeff is happy and excited to be back in Indiana for two weeks, his joy is overshadowed by grief. He will travel to Ohio three days after coming home and respectfully, bravely shake hands with Devin’s family. Jeff spent the last hours of Devin’s life by his side, securing a lifetime of memories that will forever change him. He is Devin’s last communicator, the person who will consecrate such an existence.
In the politically divided, fear-driven days of the past three years, I have never thought about our soldiers more than I have in the past nine months, especially the past two weeks. When Jeff was deployed, it was a scary reality we had irrationally hoped would disappear. But he, in modest heroic character, accepted this task and proudly donned his Army greens. He hugged his family and kissed his teary-eyed girl goodbye, ultimately tying me to and representing this war. It is Jeff’s face I see, realizing I cannot block this reality from my own. Iraq is my own reality; it must be. Jeff is living in the midst of it so I don’t have to. Devin, too, had laced up his boots, and stepped into a ravaged, oppressed country he’d never been. Devin slept in ditches, and hid behind hills, and witnessed war-ridden tragedies, never dreaming he would become one of them. Devin made the ultimate sacrifice and I wonder if there’s any other way to say it because nothing now can do his life justice. It’s his face I will see when a patriotic tune catches me off guard. It’s men and women like Devin and Jeff, those still alive and fighting, that I will envision at the next football game when I stand in silence as the national anthem rings through a hushed stadium. My trembling hand will cover a truly grateful and changed heart.
In the hectic, name-calling and opinionated time of pre-election months, a man named Devin Grella silenced it all for me. Political parties and views aside, there are thousands of men and women across the ocean risking their lives for a cause most of them believe in, for a country they stand proud of, for many people sometimes who don’t recognize their contribution to America and to the world. It’s easier than not to go about one’s daily business, bypassing the newspaper that declares hard-to-understand, foreign words about the war, and choosing to flip past the nightly news to a rerun of Friends. But I think we owe it to the soldiers to pay attention, to at consistently recognize their absence from classes and workdays and dinners with their families. They deserve at least that.
It’s quite obvious they are the embodiment of words reserved for the few who can truly fulfill them; Duty. Honor. Humility. Sacrifice. To Devin I say, you are worthy of these words. And as Jeff, an American solider, ponders his thoughts in the dusty Iraqi desert, he proclaims “Live Free” in an email that crosses country borders, capturing the essence American liberty. Those two words seem to say it all.