We have known war. The war we fight today is not our choice. Though we could choose to stop the fighting, if we did, many many more would die in the wake of Islamic terror and Taliban rule. If you don’t believe me you are sadly naive and have chosen to ignore the facts of the Muslim world and its edicts. I was born in a time when wars were fought but I was too young and before I became eighteen the draft ended. I guess some would say that’s lucky. I wouldn’t.
This next generation has lost its fair share of good women and men who have paid the ultimate price. Still more who engaged the enemy bare the physical and emotional scars left by the loss of limbs and friends: Those whose code it was to watch your comrades back as you watched theirs. In a way I regret having missed the opportunity. Stories of those who lay helpless in the jungles of south east Asia were read today from the pulpit of my Church. Tears flowed freely at the heroic efforts of those who placed their lives at the lowest priority so others could be pulled to safety. As these narratives were told, I wondered if I would have… could have… done what they did. One story told of a pilot who returned to an area in the Vietnam jungle 14 times to take wounded to MASH units while under direct orders not to return. Yet he went, again and again and again and again as bullets ripped through his chopper. When he finally landed after all were retrieved from the battle, he had been shot four times in the left leg and left arm. He lost the leg but won the Medal of Honor for what he did.
He died last Wednesday.
This Blog is for Him. I am not worthy of shining his boots.
There is no greater love than when a man lays down his life for another.
God only makes men and women like these when we need men and women like these.
You were made for such a time as this my friends. Never doubt your purpose.
We are at war.
I will remember and I will not forget.