The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired,<br />tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society<br />as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a<br />beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for<br />work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has<br />never collected unemployment either. <br /><br />He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student,<br />pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has<br />a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to<br />be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and<br />roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm howizzitor. He is 10 or 15<br />pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or<br />fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. <br /><br />He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can<br />field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the<br />dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade<br />launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and<br />latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he<br />is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. <br /><br />He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without<br />spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of<br />fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and<br />his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean<br />his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own<br />hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry,<br />his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle<br />when you run low. <br /><br />He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his<br />hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job. He will<br />often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find<br />ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should<br />have in his short lifetime. <br /><br />He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them. He<br />has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and<br />is unashamed. He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through<br />his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to<br />'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their<br />hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from<br />home, he defends their right to be disrespectful. <br /><br />Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the<br />price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the<br />American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. <br /><br />He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.<br />Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his<br />blood. And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in<br />this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so. As you go<br />to bed tonight, remember this shot.. A short lull, a little shade and a<br />picture of loved ones in their helmets.
<br /> Thank you JasonJ for your sacrifice. You are one of the many I am thankful for.