Viv's Corner...
Boots in the sand....
I hadn't seen my nephew in two years. The last time I did see him, he seemed the same, goofy, kid I'd always known. The only difference was he was dressed in his Army dress uniform and looked very dapper indeed.
On the last visit, Christmas 2002, we spoke of his impending deployment to Iraq. A bit nervous, he was nonetheless like every soldier I know - determined to do the job he trained for. "Aunt Viv?" he asked..."Did you know there are over 200 ways to kill a person using your bare hands?" I shook my head, a little nervously, as I looked into his intent brown eyes. Yes, my nephew had been trained a killing machine.
He went to Iraq, as part of the 82nd Airborne. He was a decoder, and involved in Special Ops. As such he traveled - in country - with small patrols...at night, under cover of darkness. His night-vision equipment became easier for him to see through than his own eyes in daylight.
Two tours in Iraq, two times his boots hit the sand before I saw him this past Christmas.
He seemed taller, much, much, older...and undoubtedly wiser. No longer did he act goofy. No longer did he sit around discussing video games, X-Boxes, or the latest in computer technology.
Despite warnings, from his family, that he did NOT want to speak of Iraq - whenever we sat down that is all he did speak of.
He said he didn't understand the media coverage, that NO ONE did. He said for all the sensational news, there were thousands of unreported stories. Acts of bravery, kindness, compassion, and humanity on the part of an American force who understood, way better than the average person, just what is being fought for and against there.
While not condoning the actions at Abu Grahib, he asked if one person even remembered Jessica Lynch? Did they know how she suffered at the hands of her captors? How her body, broken and battered, held a spirit that burned so brightly? How frail she looked, he said, when they got her back.. (confirming - without saying what I had thought, that he had some hand in the rescue).
He looked me in the eye and said, "Aunt Viv, I cannot tell you how many Iraqi I have killed. At first, you get sick...then it becomes mechanical and you do as you are told." I asked if that meant he thought we shouldn't be there. "Oh, no, no, no!" he said. "If we don't fight them there, we fight them here." Echoing the sentiments of Tommy Franks.
"Do you support the President?" I asked. "Yes, I do." was his simplistic reply. Needing more, I asked.."Why?" Nephew grabbed his 11-yr. old brother, tousled his hair, and with tears in his eyes he replied.."So this little guy can grow up without the fear that his school bus, his school, the mall where he'll hang out as a teenager and try to act cool, or the movie theater where he'll steal his first kiss, will suddenly become the target of a suicide bomber or other act of terrorism."
I couldn't add anymore, so I changed the subject. He's getting out - for good - this summer, and in the fall he will continue his pre-med studies. His eye on Duke University School of Medicine in 2 years.
I've no doubt he'll make it, and that's one graduation I will be proud to attend.
