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Military Man

 

The average age of the military man is 19 years.

 

He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who,

under normal circumstances is considered by

society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind

the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old

enough to die for his country.

 

He never really cared much for work and he

would rather wax his own car than wash his

father's; but he has never collected unemployment

either.

 

He's a recent High School graduate; he was

probably an average student, pursued some form of

sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy,

and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up

with him when he left, or swears to be waiting

when he returns from half a world away.

 

He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap

or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers.

 

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when

he was at home because he is working or fighting

from before dawn to well after dusk.

 

He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing

is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle

in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in

the dark.

 

He can recite to you the nomenclature of a

machine gun or grenade launcher and use either

one effectively if he must.

 

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first

aid like a professional.

 

He can march until he is told to stop or stop

until he is told to march.

 

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation,

but he is not without spirit or individual

dignity.

 

He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of

fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He

keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.

 

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but

never to clean his rifle.

 

He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes,

and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll

share his water with you; if you are hungry, his

food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in

the midst of battle when you run low.

 

He has learned to use his hands like weapons

and weapons like they were his hands. He can save

your life - or take it, because that is his

job.

 

He will often do twice the work of a

civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic

humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and

death then he should have in his short lifetime.

 

He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies,

and helped to create them.

 

He has wept in public and in private, for

friends who have fallen in combat and is

unashamed.

 

He feels every note of the National Anthem

vibrate through his body while at rigid

attention, while tempering the burning desire to

'square-away' those around him who haven't

bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop

talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far

from home, he defends their right to be

disrespectful.

 

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and

Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our

freedom.

 

Beardless or not, he is not a boy.

 

He is the American Fighting Man that has kept

this country free for over 200 years.

 

He has asked nothing in return, except our

friendship and understanding.

 

Remember him, always, for he has earned our

respect and admiration with his blood.

 

 

=====

Cheryl Smith

A Heavenly Body

204 Muldoon Road

Anchorage AK 99504

 

 

 

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