To read the tribute to SFC Marcus Muralles, please click here
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
To Honor Our Heroes
I combined two chain e-mails to come up with the following tribute. (I did minor edits to remove the obvious "keep the chain going" stuff.) I can't give credit to anyone for either the photos or the poem- I have no idea who put the originals together. All I can do is say "thank you"- both to the authors/creators of the pieces, to those who sent me the e-mails, and to our brave men and women who put it all on the line for us each and every day.
Your alarm goes off, you hit the snooze and sleep for another 10 minutes.
He stays up for days on end.
You take a warm shower to help you wake up.
He goes days or weeks without running water.
You complain of a "headache", and call in sick.
He gets shot at as others are hit, and keeps moving forward.
You put on your anti war/don't support the troops shirt, and go meet up with your friends.
He still fights for your right to wear that shirt.
You make sure you're cell phone is in your pocket.
He clutches the cross hanging on his chain next to his dog tags.
You talk trash about your "buddies" that aren't with you.
He knows he may not see some of his buddies again.
You walk down the beach, staring at all the pretty girls.
He walks the streets, searching for insurgents and terrorists.
You complain about how hot it is.
He wears his heavy gear, not daring to take off his helmet to wipe his brow.
You go out to lunch, and complain because the restaurant got your order wrong.
He doesn't get to eat today.
Your maid makes your bed and washes your clothes.
He wears the same things for weeks, but makes sure his weapons are clean.
You go to the mall and get your hair redone.
He doesn't have time to brush his teeth today.
You're angry because your class ran 5 minutes over.
He's told he will be held over an extra 2 months.
You call your girlfriend and set a date for tonight.
He waits for the mail to see if there is a letter from home.
You hug and kiss your girlfriend, like you do everyday.
He holds his letter close and smells his love's perfume.
You roll your eyes as a baby cries.
He gets a letter with pictures of his new child, and wonders if they'll ever meet.
You criticize your government, and say that war never solves anything.
He sees the innocent tortured and killed by their own people and remembers why he is fighting.
You hear the jokes about the war, and make fun of men like him.
He hears the gunfire, bombs and screams of the wounded.
You see only what the media wants you to see.
He sees the broken bodies lying around him.
You are asked to go to the store by your parents. You don't.
He does exactly what he is told.
You stay at home and watch TV.
He takes whatever time he is given to call, write home, sleep, and eat.
You crawl into your soft bed, with down pillows, and get comfortable.
He crawls under a tank for shade and a 5 minute nap, only to be woken by gunfire.
You sit there and judge him, saying the world is probably a worse place because of men like him.
If only there were more men like him!
Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American G. I.
One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.