While most of us have been distracted by the smoke and mirror acts going on in Washington
They don’t grandstand, or protest, or use their status to enrich their personal wealth. These soldiers, most little more than children, just quietly risk their lives every day, so the rest of us can enjoy our weekends, invest for the future, or bitch about our iPhones, or sports teams, or Facebook pages, or what is left of our democracy.
No, as far as I know, today is not a veteran’s "holiday." You will notice no hypocritical politicians or pundits paying false-homage to our troops, so they can catch the evening news-cycle. My guess is that, though the troops do appreciate any mention at all, our young soldiers have come to realize that their service, and even their lives, have been all but reduced to little more than a game of political football, played by politicians in a club, which they will never be asked to join.
These warriors come predominantly from our nation’s growing underclass. They obey orders, provide humanitarian aid, fight, and die for their country, even when their country puts them in harm’s way for no good reason. It’s not in their job-description to ask why, just to serve. And they make do with substandard body armor, and vehicles not made for combat and even faulty showers that electrocute them. And they step on land mines for lousy pay, while war profiteers like Halliburton and Blackwater and Raytheon reap billions hawking the garbage they call the goods and services that these kids have to use to survive in the most hostile environment imaginable.
And when they come home to their families, if they come home, many are broken. Some are missing limbs, while others are psychologically damaged from exposure to daily terror, constant life-threatening situations, and the unimaginable pathos that permeates all wars. And they go back to the same underclass from which they came, and most of us don’t want to think about them, or see their scars, or pay any real money to try to put them back together again. Even those soldiers who return relatively unscathed often come home to find infidelity, apathy, or unemployment waiting for them.
I am reminded of the saying, “There, by the grace of God, go I. ” Not being a particularly religious person, I have always interpreted this to mean that, no matter how bad I think I have it, there is always someone who would gladly walk in my shoes. I am also not a particularly military-oriented person, but my heart cannot help but go out to these youngsters, and I am fully willing to make the emotional investment necessary to start a serious conversation about their sacrifice and their plight.
Maybe it is time that we put aside our anger and frustration and greed and self-pity, for just a few moments, and take a short walk in their combat boots. Our feet will swim in them.
She had all that she needed and all that she wanted,
She had sunshine and horses and meadows to ride,
She had boys at her doorstep a future secured,
She had staggering beauty beneath she could hide,
But she packed up her clothes and left all that behind,
For a life full of sadness, invading her mind,
All the souls that she saved, all the battles she won,
Minus one.
Those closest to her, they still ask themselves why,
If they had just listened closer would they’d have heard her
crying
And the rest of us patiently kept in the dark,
Minus one.
But remember her smile as she stood up to fight
And remember the fear that she kept out of sight
And remember the love that she gave everyone,
Minus one.
Some are feeling their age, others' times just begun,
Some are counting the days till it’s all said and done,
But there once was an angel, both irreverent and sage
And she picked up our hearts with her courage and her rage,
Up against the indifference, the power, she won
Minus one.
They don’t grandstand, or protest, or use their status to enrich their personal wealth. These soldiers, most little more than children, just quietly risk their lives every day, so the rest of us can enjoy our weekends, invest for the future, or bitch about our iPhones, or sports teams, or Facebook pages, or what is left of our democracy.
No, as far as I know, today is not a veteran’s "holiday." You will notice no hypocritical politicians or pundits paying false-homage to our troops, so they can catch the evening news-cycle. My guess is that, though the troops do appreciate any mention at all, our young soldiers have come to realize that their service, and even their lives, have been all but reduced to little more than a game of political football, played by politicians in a club, which they will never be asked to join.
These warriors come predominantly from our nation’s growing underclass. They obey orders, provide humanitarian aid, fight, and die for their country, even when their country puts them in harm’s way for no good reason. It’s not in their job-description to ask why, just to serve. And they make do with substandard body armor, and vehicles not made for combat and even faulty showers that electrocute them. And they step on land mines for lousy pay, while war profiteers like Halliburton and Blackwater and Raytheon reap billions hawking the garbage they call the goods and services that these kids have to use to survive in the most hostile environment imaginable.
And when they come home to their families, if they come home, many are broken. Some are missing limbs, while others are psychologically damaged from exposure to daily terror, constant life-threatening situations, and the unimaginable pathos that permeates all wars. And they go back to the same underclass from which they came, and most of us don’t want to think about them, or see their scars, or pay any real money to try to put them back together again. Even those soldiers who return relatively unscathed often come home to find infidelity, apathy, or unemployment waiting for them.
I am reminded of the saying, “There, by the grace of God, go I. ” Not being a particularly religious person, I have always interpreted this to mean that, no matter how bad I think I have it, there is always someone who would gladly walk in my shoes. I am also not a particularly military-oriented person, but my heart cannot help but go out to these youngsters, and I am fully willing to make the emotional investment necessary to start a serious conversation about their sacrifice and their plight.
Maybe it is time that we put aside our anger and frustration and greed and self-pity, for just a few moments, and take a short walk in their combat boots. Our feet will swim in them.
Minus One: A Warrior’s Requiem
By: J Brandeis Sperandeo
She had all that she needed and all that she wanted,
She had sunshine and horses and meadows to ride,
She had boys at her doorstep a future secured,
She had staggering beauty beneath she could hide,
But she packed up her clothes and left all that behind,
For a life full of sadness, invading her mind,
All the souls that she saved, all the battles she won,
Minus one.
Those closest to her, they still ask themselves why,
If they had just listened closer would they’d have heard her
crying
And the rest of us patiently kept in the dark,
Minus one.
But remember her smile as she stood up to fight
And remember the fear that she kept out of sight
And remember the love that she gave everyone,
Minus one.
Some are feeling their age, others' times just begun,
Some are counting the days till it’s all said and done,
But there once was an angel, both irreverent and sage
And she picked up our hearts with her courage and her rage,
Up against the indifference, the power, she won
Minus one.
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