Fallen Heroes

Tonight I wept. I did not shed tears because I was sad, or glad. I wept over the memories of friends from my military days that I know died during the Persian Gulf War. Most of these friends were hospital corpsmen. They were gunned down as they tended to the wounds of fallen United States Marines. Fallen heroes. Fallen soldiers. These are the heroes that allows us to remain free.

I also cried for all of the fallen men and women of the United States Military that have fought for our freedom in every war and conflict. Each of their deaths ensured that we may live in a free nation.

And what, you might ask, prompted so many tears from a forty year old man?

My wife and I watched the movie, Flags of our Fathers, tonight. At first I wasn't sure if I liked the proposed philosophy that seemed to be presented at the beginning, not realizing that the movie was not about philosophies at all. The film was about honoring our soldiers, remembering them as they were (and are), not as some irregular pieces of a large political jigsaw puzzle. The film captured the horror of war in a way that many of us could not even imagine. It also captured how much those who have not served know nothing about what it is like to freely offer one's life for another. My wife observed that the movie made a clear statement on how a soldier can be a hero one day, and forgotten the next.

I sat there in the theater with my hips burning, my shoulder throbbing, and my hands swollen. My knees are shot and I have a bulging disc in my neck. Veteran's Affairs gives me just enough attention to help me deal with the pain, and an appointment about once every six months or so. I was discharged with a 30% disability that was not even incurred during battle, or any action whatsoever. I am a lucky man. My friends went through a lot more pain than I will ever experience. They lost their limbs and their lives so that I could live in my house free to complain about the government's lack of vision and my aching joints.

Many people call me a war monger because I support the war on terror. Some criticize me because I was on a naval ship rather than out there in the sand with a rifle in my hands. Others criticize me because I was removed from my command before the action actually began, and my ship went to the Gulf without me. I lay in a hospital ward at Naval Hospital Balboa in San Diego watching the news the day my ship made the broadcast. A newscaster told me about the death of so many of my shipmates.

War is hell. War is filled with horrors that the non-combatant can never imagine. I don't support war as an entity. I don't believe that war is a good thing. I am not a war monger. I am, however, a man that understands that war is a necessary evil in the struggle to protect freedom. I am a man that realizes that those fallen men and women that so many on the political left spit on should be thanked for their sacrifices. Without those people laying down their lives for us, we would not have the freedom to complain.

As the movie, Flags of our Fathers, came to a close, and the final words about honoring our military were spoken, I sat in that theater with my wife beside me crying. Tears streamed down my cheeks. My throat hurt from the lump that had formed. A couple dozen people wept with me. We wept silently. We remained still. It was as if we felt that if we moved we may be dishonoring the memories filling our heads.

I miss my friends. I love them for their sacrifice. I support them, and all of our military personnel protecting our freedoms. Support the war effort, or not, you have to support our troops.

I fear that I have fallen short of the message I truly wanted to give, and I fell short of relaying the emotions that stir in me now. In fact, the only way to properly convey these things is through a Bible verse.

John 15:13 Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.