Today, I feel, is going to be one of those days that will put me in a bad mood. Not an angry bad mood, just a, I don’t know, depressed one. Or rather, a depressing mood. We are going to have a memorial for some of our fallen this afternoon. Two separate incidents, that happened almost two weeks and thousands of miles apart. They weren’t the first time my unit had lost members, but they were the first for me to lose friends.
The first one happened on February 22, 2002, in the Philippine Sea. I knew just about everyone that was onboard that aircraft. There was no indication of enemy fire, it was a mechanical failure. We lost eight good soldiers that day, of which five were friends of mine. Yes, I do miss them, and they are never far from my thoughts. Nor are those that they left behind.
The second incident occurred on March 4, 2002, in Afghanistan’s Sha-e-kot Valley. (During Operation Anaconda.) That one hit more to home for me. While the loss was a relatively minor one, in the way that the Army counts these things. It was one that was more personal. That day I lost a very good friend. A very good friend. There’s not too much more that I can say right now without sounding critical. And that would dishonor his sacrifice, in my eyes.
I know that during the ceremony that they would be called warriors, and that is a shame. The military, as a whole, has gotten on this “Warrior” bandwagon. They call everyone in the military a warrior. We are not warriors, we are soldiers. (And by soldiers, I am including all of our military.) I don’t know if you know that there’s difference, or not, but I’ll try to explain.
Basically it is this. Warriors are individuals and soldiers are part of a team. To be a soldier takes more self discipline, more working together, to achieve a common goal. Warriors are more apt to accomplish individual goals. To give you an example, the terrorists in Iraq operate as warriors. This is why they are unable to work together above the squad level (8-10 people). And when they try to, they are severely beaten by fewer numbers of soldiers. Sure, our technology makes up somewhat for the difference, but it is our training as soldiers to operate as a team that is the biggest factor. (Of course the fact that they want to die helps, too.) Teams can accomplish goals that individuals could never hope to. I never want to be referred to as a “warrior”. I AM A SOLDIER! And I am proud of that fact.
My unit has a tradition. We place the names of our fallen on our memorial so that they will never be forgotten. Nor will their sacrifice be in vain. Everyone coming to us will visit this memorial and told our history. It is our link. Our guiding symbol. None of us strive for this honor, but it is still an honor, none the less.
I want to leave off today with a poem written for us. I don’t know who wrote it, so I can not give the proper acknowledgement that it deserves. Please, read.
The Same Hands
Anon
The first one happened on February 22, 2002, in the Philippine Sea. I knew just about everyone that was onboard that aircraft. There was no indication of enemy fire, it was a mechanical failure. We lost eight good soldiers that day, of which five were friends of mine. Yes, I do miss them, and they are never far from my thoughts. Nor are those that they left behind.
The second incident occurred on March 4, 2002, in Afghanistan’s Sha-e-kot Valley. (During Operation Anaconda.) That one hit more to home for me. While the loss was a relatively minor one, in the way that the Army counts these things. It was one that was more personal. That day I lost a very good friend. A very good friend. There’s not too much more that I can say right now without sounding critical. And that would dishonor his sacrifice, in my eyes.
I know that during the ceremony that they would be called warriors, and that is a shame. The military, as a whole, has gotten on this “Warrior” bandwagon. They call everyone in the military a warrior. We are not warriors, we are soldiers. (And by soldiers, I am including all of our military.) I don’t know if you know that there’s difference, or not, but I’ll try to explain.
Basically it is this. Warriors are individuals and soldiers are part of a team. To be a soldier takes more self discipline, more working together, to achieve a common goal. Warriors are more apt to accomplish individual goals. To give you an example, the terrorists in Iraq operate as warriors. This is why they are unable to work together above the squad level (8-10 people). And when they try to, they are severely beaten by fewer numbers of soldiers. Sure, our technology makes up somewhat for the difference, but it is our training as soldiers to operate as a team that is the biggest factor. (Of course the fact that they want to die helps, too.) Teams can accomplish goals that individuals could never hope to. I never want to be referred to as a “warrior”. I AM A SOLDIER! And I am proud of that fact.
My unit has a tradition. We place the names of our fallen on our memorial so that they will never be forgotten. Nor will their sacrifice be in vain. Everyone coming to us will visit this memorial and told our history. It is our link. Our guiding symbol. None of us strive for this honor, but it is still an honor, none the less.
I want to leave off today with a poem written for us. I don’t know who wrote it, so I can not give the proper acknowledgement that it deserves. Please, read.
The Same Hands
Anon
The same hands built and trained for war
Carried me to my final resting place
My name engraved on the memorial wall
I find myself looking back through this honored space
From this place all that I held so dear to me
All that I had worked so hard to keep running
The past present and future are clear to me now
I am very much alive in spirit
Through the Wall
I can see the next Commanding Officer
He makes the Memorial Wall his first visit
He reads off all of our names
The same hand that will send our brothers into harms way
Touches the wall with a gentle firm understanding
We touch back and know
Our brothers are going to be taken care of
Through the Wall
I see a new recruit led to the wall
He stands with an old timer
"Never forget the price we pay"
Says the old to the young
The same hands still green and unsure
Touches the wall with uncertainty and respect
Soon the young recruit will return
No longer green he will understand
Through the Wall
My brothers appear before a mission
Faces confident and ready for battle
Each looks at the wall and wonders
Will my name ever be etched in stone
The same hands that are trained for war
Now touch the wall with gentle respect
We touch back with confidence
We shall meet soon my friends
There is no rush
We will be with you on this dark night
Please keep us in your hearts, minds and prayers. Also, remember those that have been left behind by our losses. Not just those mentioned here, but all who have given their lives in service to our nation.
Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment