Got this email today, for your reading pleasure, "The Soldier!"
Regardless of your feelings about our involvement in the War on Iraq, I hope
you will
remember the troops deserve our respect.
The average age of the Infantryman is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal
circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet
dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to
die for his country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own
car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment
either.
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 Howitzers.
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-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.
HUU-raah!
The soldier, Huu Raah!
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- azsnowman
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The soldier, Huu Raah!
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- wx247
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That is very good. It makes me think about all those my age over there giving their life so I can enjoy mine here.
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- mf_dolphin
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Thanks, Dennis. I have an old black & white photo of
my Dad, just before he set off to WWII. He was still
"green behind the gills", as he used to say...unmarried,
around 23 yrs. old, and full of himself! There were only
certain times that he would talk about "the war". Some
stories were sad, and, some were absolutely hilarious!
(I know who I got my mischevious tendencies from!)
He talked about places like South Africa, France, and Sicily
with a far-away twinkle in his eye, recalling his "war
stories". I always listened intently, grasping to every word,
trying to see the story unfold through his eyes. Then, he
would go off to his recliner for a nap, and, he might not tell
another "story" for months on end.
My Dad passed away in June of last year. He was all of
those things that your e-mail message mentioned. He was
always proud of his country, and, he would be very proud
of our guys who are fighting in Iraq, if he were here, today!
Thanks for sharing that!
my Dad, just before he set off to WWII. He was still
"green behind the gills", as he used to say...unmarried,
around 23 yrs. old, and full of himself! There were only
certain times that he would talk about "the war". Some
stories were sad, and, some were absolutely hilarious!
(I know who I got my mischevious tendencies from!)
He talked about places like South Africa, France, and Sicily
with a far-away twinkle in his eye, recalling his "war
stories". I always listened intently, grasping to every word,
trying to see the story unfold through his eyes. Then, he
would go off to his recliner for a nap, and, he might not tell
another "story" for months on end.
My Dad passed away in June of last year. He was all of
those things that your e-mail message mentioned. He was
always proud of his country, and, he would be very proud
of our guys who are fighting in Iraq, if he were here, today!
Thanks for sharing that!

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Thank you for sharing that Dennis.
Breeze, I remember both my grandparents talking of WW2 as well! They were both Majors. They met during the war. My engagement ring was handed down from my grandmother to me. The 1 carat diamond has a black speck in the middle of it (flaw) it was the only diamond he could find during those days, if you look under a jewlers loop the speck looks like a heart! So it is very special... even though it has a flaw in it.
Breeze, I remember both my grandparents talking of WW2 as well! They were both Majors. They met during the war. My engagement ring was handed down from my grandmother to me. The 1 carat diamond has a black speck in the middle of it (flaw) it was the only diamond he could find during those days, if you look under a jewlers loop the speck looks like a heart! So it is very special... even though it has a flaw in it.
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