Supporting the Troops with One More Son. . .
My youngest son, Ryan, woke up this morning in the Navy.
No, he wasn't Shanghai'ed. He enlisted nearly six months ago. I grew more proud each day as the date drew near. At 25, he has had grown-up responsibilities thrust on him — finally.
Not too long ago, I remember sitting in a coffee shop with him, talking about his future. "Is the military an option?" I asked. "I couldn't handle it," he said. "I have a problem with authority."
Well who doesn't. I thought. I didn't like being told what to do either. Ever.
But today, I imagine him with a drill instructor in his face telling him exactly what to do. That's what basic training in all branches of the military is about: learning to take orders. The trick is not to lose yourself.
I remember my love-hate relationship with basic training when I joined the Air Force 35 years ago. I, too, didn't take orders very well. I was scared to death for the first few weeks. I couldn't quite get the "Sir, Yes Sir" response correct. I said "okay" way too many times, and that made Tech Sgt. Ennis incredibly angry. And Staff Sgt. Zitsky was even scarier! (Funny how I can remember their names 35 years later!)
But I was in the best shape of my life at the end of six weeks and the strongest mental state I've ever felt. I was confident to the point of being invincible. I knew what I was doing, where I was going and what would happen when I got there.
Having that level of confidence is a blessing. Every decision was black or white. As soon as I got out of the Air Force after 3 years, 8 months and 13 days (but who's counting!), the world became all gray. And today, it's even more bleak.
I think about our troops in Iraq — especially the National Guard troops who've been ripped out of comfortable civilian positions like teaching, manufacturing and white-collar desk jobs and thrown into one of the most confusingly gray situations they could experience. They can't possibly have that level of confidence. Daily, I pray for their safe return. And daily, the casualties mount.
I now have two sons in the military: The youngest with one day in the Navy, and the oldest with almost 8 years in the Air Force. I'm so proud of them both. They have the courage to help themselves grow while they support our country's defense.
But I don't have a yellow ribbon on my car. And I won't get one either.
I hear some of you now. "Why don't you support the troops?" I absolutely do. Encouraging my two boys to join was not just about finding a way to college, but doing their part. I believe everyone who is a citizen of this country should complete a mandatory service, if not in the military, then in AmeriCorps or Peace Corps or Boys Club or . . . you get the drift. It's important to give back a small piece of the gift that our country has given to us.
But the yellow ribbon has taken on a meaning far beyond supporting our troops. It is synonymous in many places with supporting the War in Iraq.
I don't.
It's a war waged on false pretenses. It's a war waged to replace one man — a terrible tyrant. Yet more than 2300 coalition soldiers and 33,000 Iraqi civilians have died. And the country has been absolutely demolished by our government's bungling. The price has been too high.
Like Colin Powell said during the initial planning phases warning the politicos of the risk, "You break it, you buy it!" We broke Iraq. Now, we own the tragedy.
If you really want to support our troops, make a donation to the Armed Forces Relief Trust, an organization that provides emergency aid to our servicemen and women in need. Our troops need us!
Recent Comments