Iraq in My Home: A Correspondence

In my youth, I watched Walter Cronkite give tribute to the men lost each night in Vietnam, and then in wonder read the names of fallen soldiers that had been lost that day as it scrolled through the closing minutes of the CBS Evening News. It was always surreal to be 9 years old, and actively looking for names that I'd recognize, not realizing the impact this horrific monster had created in the world around me, our United States. I had a brother that entered the Navy and saw some action in the Gulf of Tonkin, a cousin that told his family he was outside of the frontlines doing paperwork, while he actively flew into enemy territory in a rescue helicopter trying to airlift the wounded, until he was finally shot down. He survived and so did my brother. I didn't touch the war any closer than that as a nine year old, but recently in my adulthood became connected to Iraq in a far different way. I received an email.

With the age of internet grasping communication in all avenues, getting an email is no longer that big a deal. We receive sometimes hundreds in a day. As a teacher in the public schools, I often have emails from students turning in assignments. Yet, last summer I looked at my inbox, and noticed an email from a young man we'll call Max. What's odd about this is that Max had been deployed two weeks earlier to Baghdad as a military officer, an MP position apparently. He was in Iraq and taking the time to send an email to his old teacher. When I realized where he was writing the email, tears came to my eyes, and I think it was a feeling of mostly fear. He spoke of walking the streets in patrol and not really having time to do anything else. Not having any time to do anything else I thought as I now visualized this young man fully armed with artillery looking at every shadow and obstruction along the walk, hoping a sniper wouldn't pick him out of the air in a dead second.

I wrote back with a plea from God to protect this young man Max. I can't thank our soldiers enough whom are sacrificing their lives on a daily basis in this questionable and remarkably sad conflict. I think as well of the sacred grounds that these men and women fight upon and wonder what powerful energy that places in their mind and soul. I appreciate my opportunity to know Max and am ever grateful that he gave me a moment of his life under the duress of war.

We as Americans, in the comfort of our homes, anticipating a Sunday of chips and dip and a good beverage while sitting in our favorite cushioned chair anticipating the start of the football season, need to reflect upon the men and women that are truly fighting for our country's well-being, on a misguided tour in Irag. I fear for Max's safety every day, and pray that his family will find peace with his prolonged assignment. I think on Sunday I will take the time to listen to the National Anthem, and will quietly acknowledge my hope and prayers for our young people sacrificing their lives in Iraq. I hope to see Max and his beautiful smile in the very near future.