Come with me... // November 6, 2005

See, I thought I knew. I thought I understood. I did, but only from a distance. Sit with me for awhile in the foyer and watch with me in the halls as American servicemen and women fight for their very lives. I have seen much in my week long stay here. I have been shamed that my wound is only a broken bone in my face. I have seen others wounds that make mine look like a lazy man’s excuse to stay away from duty. I have sat in awe as doctors and nurses that could make so much money elsewhere scurry about in valiant efforts to stabilize life.

I have seen children come into this hospital. I am reminded of the last time I was here for one of my soldiers. He had been wounded in the face and in the foot and after I prayed with him I happened to look over at the bed next to him. There was a baby. A tiny Iraqi girl, her frightened eyes staring at the room around her filled with large men in battle attire. She whimpered quietly and the American nurse in desert camouflage reached out and touched her nose. She looked over to the soft voice and her small hand reached for the nurse safe grasp. It was the irony of the moment that stirred within me thought of sacrifice.

Who are these people that risk so much to be here? I do not naively say that every soldier chose the Army for altruistic, noble causes. I am quite sure that they did not. But all the same, they are here. They are doing what they have been asked to do and they do it with such professionalism and nobility it is hard to see any other motive in their hearts. I count myself blessed to be among them.

I have also been able to watch tv here. Something I have not done in over six months. I just have not had the opportunity. The words commitment and sacrifice are played on by so many people, it becomes hard to place actual meaning to the words. People from all points of view on this war use them to further their causes. The banter and bellow about sacrifice they have never made and commitment they themselves have never actualized. There was a brief moment when I heard a commentator on some nameless show go on and on about said topics and I heard a commotion. They were bringing in a boy whose leg was bleeding and the scene exploded like it would in any good episode in ER. Only, these were not highly paid actors, they were soldiers. Thousands of miles from home, care written on their faces, each doing what needed to be done. It was an exercise in absolute contrast. I blinked in wonder at the moment.

Before this, Iraq was a political issue. Iraq was a campaign question battled out on CNN. The only time I mentioned it was either in prayer for service people in general or in the teaching of history. It came up once in a while during a rousing classroom discussion. Here, it has taken a profoundly different tone with me. I know Iraqis. I know a part of this land. I have learned what sacrifice and commitment means on its hot pavement and dusty topsoil. I have learned what duty is here. I have learned what honor is here. I have knelt in the sand, waded in canals and learned just what loyalty is. I have stood by the sides of grieving soldiers, grieving with them and learned what love is.

I know, this is not the Revolution. This is not the War between the States, this is not WWII – it is OIF and the soldiers that are fighting in it will be the next “Greatest Generation” for they know what sacrifice is, they know what honor is, they know what commitment is.

I have stood by their sides as they gave, out of their own pockets, wheelchairs to people that would never receive otherwise. I have seen these soldiers take what they do personally, finding immense satisfaction in making their little piece of Iraq safe. To those fighting here, its not a slogan or some kind of vague goal. It’s a fight for peace and safety and in the last six months we have done just that in this place. We have made it that much safer for these people, trying to scratch out a living in the hard soil. I will always remember a quiet night turning into a quiet day as I sat with a soldier in a safe house next to a large machine gun overlooking a polling site. As we sat, we talked about his love and how he planned to live after he got home. In the distance we watched Iraqis, some exercising for the first time, the ability to vote. They chose a constitution. They chose the rule of law. We were a part of that. They came because these infantry boys sat on point making sure it was safe.

Its quiet this night at the hospital. Sunday night has brought a relative calm here. Like any hospital, it goes from insanely hectic to quiet calm all the time. The medical staff wait sitting in break rooms, knowing that any moment the doors will open and demand every ounce of their strength. In the intermediate ward, caring nurses and medics check on soldiers and civilians. They quietly do their jobs, trying to make the wounded as comfortable as possible. They wait for the next rush of patients. I pause to pray for them.

I watch in awe. I came here with big ideas about change and after being here six months all I know is this:

I learned, I saw, I stood with and by, I became, I am – an American Soldier.

What a time indeed!!