I sit in a darkened room with the dull hum of a channel now gone off the air. The flickering light awakens me once again at 2:30 in the AM. Sitting numb of feeling and a great sense of loss and wonder who cares for we are at war again. Once again, American blood spilled on land far from home. I wonder and pray for the families of the 111 who have died thus far, this, the 13th day of the war.
I find it difficult to separate myself from a war I faced in my youth from this one. Why do we not learn about the downsides of war? It is the question of the hour. Part of my mind and heart say we need to set another people free--been there, done that. That one cost over 50,000 lives, listed on a black wall in Washington, DC, and those people are still not free.
Somewhere, tonight in Baghdad, someone's father and husband will go do his janitor job and will not come home tomorrow from his "safe" job as he has become expendable.
Along with the building, he is caring for. A wife and children will go searching and discover he is gone. A small child will awaken by a short round with wounds she won't understand and will search for mom and father, sister, and brother too, unable to find them. Where is her freedom?
Some youth of America who was writing a letter home telling his family and loved ones it is almost over, the worst is done. But he will never mail that letter, much less finish it as a suicide bomber will blow him to kingdom come. A knock at the door at 2:00 p.m. telling them that their loved one is gone. Some price for freedom!
I sit here all alone barracked in-a prisoner in my home. Afraid to venture out, my emotions have made me ugly. My heart is hurting for the soldiers far away from home. I want to stop their dying, and just as my war of 50 years ago, I still can't stop the dying or fix the torn bleeding parts.
As with so many years ago, I served my country and came home searching for a medic to make me whole, but the Band-Aids keep coming off, exposing my heart and soul. Who will fix the medic I still want to know? This weekend is our reunion of the men of the 2/47th Infantry I won't be going they remind me of a war fought long ago it is not memories that I seek but freedom for my sad and weary soul.