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 155mm
howizzitor. 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 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 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
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 woman over there in danger,
|We thank Kathy Vilseck for sending this email on to share with everyone.|