When Words Become Blood
A reflection to honor the soldiers who gave everything to protect us, with special recognition to US Army 3rd Special Forces Group...
He rises with the sun most days, and on the others, he peers into the darkness absently wondering how long it will linger before the light comes to pierce the shadows.
He hasn't needed an alarm in years. Sleep never lasts for long. He is too restless and always on guard.
He hasn't needed an alarm in years. Sleep never lasts for long. He is too restless and always on guard.
He seems quite relaxed to those who meet him, laid back and even-keeled. Intense eyes that calmly dart and scan his surroundings belie first impressions, but few get close enough to see his soul.
As the bands march rhythmically, his mind trails back to another time and place when a rhythmic beat captured him. He wrapped the young soldier in his arms, and pressed against him tightly, peering helplessly into his gaping chest. The eerie standstill around him was surreal as he tried to figure out whether he was really hearing the reverberating beat of his friend's heart, or if the throbbing pulsations were so intense that he felt the movement of sound waves around him.
Time stopped. Bangs, screams, and howls of war continued to pierce the air, but faded to silence in his mind as he watched recognition fade from the eyes of his friend. He remembers the sound of a heartbeat and blood. There was so much blood. He wishes he didn't remember it so clearly, but he vowed to never forget.
Music fills the air as people gather to celebrate. Parks vibrate with base from one picnic stand and capture the twang of a banjo from another. Different beats, different rhythms, and different lifestyles become one indistinguishable event melded by chatter and camaraderie. He watches as people laugh and dance, and he hears rock music blare. In an instant, his mind catapults back to a mission.
Rock music blared. They played it loudly, and the driving tempo and defiant lyrics pumped up the adrenaline as they checked weapons and prepared equipment. Some shots were slammed, some smokes were smoked. He remembers his friend making faces and laughing as he danced and played air guitar. He remembers watching the ground explode. He becomes agitated as he struggles to remember his friend's facial expressions that day. He wonders if he would have looked at him more carefully if he had known it was the last time he'd see him.
The smells from the grills mingle, smoky and sweet, spicy and pungent, and he smiles as he watches people flip burgers, prod charcoal, and move steaks and hot dogs around over the flames. He gazes absentmindedly as one of the cooks brushes sticky sauce on ribs and skewers of chicken.
He thinks about CARE packages. Outside the wire, especially, messages from home were a break from the monotony and a reminder that there was a place where love and warmth and softness still existed. Treats were shared, and letters were tucked away to read privately again and again. The scents of home, treats and perfume, transcended space and time and carried them away from the stench of war. He thinks about how his buddy loved cookouts. He wishes they could share a steak and a beer. He wishes he had come home.
He watches the speeches and the parades and the food and the people. He watches for his friends who never got the chance to see the places they loved again. He feels angry that so many view the day as a just a holiday for parties and good times. He really wants to leave and go to the lake where there are trees, and water, and silence. He senses he probably shouldn't rush to be alone.
He feels a lump rise in his throat as someone sings the National Anthem. He feels tears flood his eyes as they play Taps. He struggles to breathe because the crowd seems too close even though he stands at the edge on the outskirts.
They recite:
"I pledge Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands. One nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all."
The crowd repeats the words aloud.
"I pledge Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands. One nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all."
The crowd repeats the words aloud.
He sometimes wonders if people know what allegiance means anymore. His brothers knew. His brothers know. He feels alone in the midst of a crowd.
"...The rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof in the night, that our flag was still there. O say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave... o'er the Land of the Free and the home of the Brave..."
The feelings that he sets aside most days flood in without mercy. The love and joy of life itself, continued existence, tempered by the anguish of loss and fury at the unfairness of it all, wreak havoc.
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He breathes slowly.
He rises, and he goes on with his day, because, as he often says, "Life is what it is."
As you smile or laugh today, pause to appreciate the simplicity of joy. Live purposefully in the moment for those who sacrificed everything and will never have another day like the one you may be taking for granted.
America is the Land of the Free Because of the Brave.
They are not just words. When words become blood, people die, and people cry.
Never forget.
“It is the Soldier, not the minister
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