When they finished laughing

I would like to thank the Marine Corps for returning Bestie to me.  It is so good to talk to him and pull out the phone to text whenever I feel like it. 

When they finished laughing they were on their way to being not just friends, but the dearest of friends, the sort of friends whose lives are shaped by the friendship.

SPINDLE’S END, ROBIN MCKINLEY

Welcome Home

With a deep sigh of relief:
Welcome Home, Marine.

Welcome Home.

Oh, how we have missed you.

Remembering Pfc Gunnar Becker

One inescapable fact about war is that there will be casualties.  When nations wage war men and women will die.  They will be young.  They will be missed.  They will be gone, as Seeger says, forever lost to "some disputed barricade." 

There is an old, traditional song entitled Hard Times that reminds us that we must account for these things that are hard to acknowledge.   It begins, "Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears..."  Often, the hard times are the ones we want to forget.  The harsh reality of young men and women in uniform not coming home is certainly a reality we as a society wish to ignore.  

But we cannot ignore them.  We cannot hide from them.  We must pause our own lives for a moment to count life's tears.  There are many tears to be shed for our fallen, not just in the moment their names are released to stream on the scrolling news bar, but for the many moments after where their absence is felt.

One of the casualties of our current wars is Pfc. Gunnar D Becker, 19, Forestburg, South Dakota.  Gunnar was a tanker stationed out of Vilseck, Germany.  Today, January 12, 2005, he was living the last day of his life.  By the end of the next, January 13, 2005, his rendezvous with Death had come to pass.  The disputed barricade where he gave his life was came on a battlefield in Iraq.  

By all accounts, Gunnar was someone you'd be lucky to call a friend.   Despite his youth, he had a commitment to his chosen profession.  He knew the risks.  He believed in what he was doing.  He possessed the values of Honor, Courage, and Commitment that too many of his peers lack.  He understood service and undertook the greatest act of service there is, service to one's country.  He stood the watch for us, protecting us and the ideals of our nation.  He was willing to give his life for a cause that was greater than himself.   The phrase "the price of freedom" is thrown around a lot by the media, sometimes seriously, mostly around Memorial Day, but mostly facetiously.  But the true price of freedom ultimately is the life of Pfc Gunnar Becker and those like him who defend our nation.  That is what it has always been. 

Gunnar gave his life for his country.  He paid the ultimate price.  For this reason, many would call him a hero.  I would argue that it is not his death that makes him one.  He is a hero for the way he lived his life.  It reminds me of  FDNY Chief Ed Croker's words while speaking upon the deaths of a deputy chief and four firemen in a 1908 blaze.  He said of their bravery: 

"Firemen are going to get killed.  When they join the department they face that fact.  When a man becomes a fireman his greatest act of bravery has been accomplished.  What he does after that is all in the line of work.  They were not thinking of getting killed when they went where death lurked.  They went there to put the fire out, and got killed.  Firefighters do not regard themselves as heroes because they do what the business requires."

Indeed, Gunnar's greatest act of bravery was accomplished when he took the oath of enlistment and promised to protect and defend the United States of America.   He went where the job sent him and did what the job required.  This is what makes him hero.

But it does not lessen the pain of his loss for those who loved and knew him.  He is still gone from them.  There are no words we can offer to make this loss better.

Instead, we must offer what we can: acknowledgement.

Pfc. Gunnar D Becker lost his life in service to our country.  Today, and everyday, I remember him.  I remember him as an individual who is no longer here to leave his mark on the world.  I remember his family who must face his absence daily.

Laurence Binyon wrote of the fallen in World War I that "they will not grow old, as we that are left grow old:/ age will not weary them, nor the years condemn."  With each year that passes, I become more aware of the truth in these lines.

As another anniversary of his death nears Gunnar remains as he was.

And we must remember him.

Film: The Dry Land

I just finished the independent film, The Dry Land.  It blew me away.  I'm usually wary of films depicting military veterans or soldiers in general.  They usually do not strike the right tone, are two inaccurate, or are just plain insulting.  I left this one with the feeling that the actors and the film makers "got it."  There was a sincerity to the acting and to the storytelling that impressed me.

From actress America Ferrera "There is a disconnect in our society....  Everyone wants a hero but no one wants to see or think about what they had to go through to be that hero."

The journey home post war and post military is different for every person.  The experience is different for every family.  The film brings a reality to one way that it can go.  I'm not going to summarize the plot or try to delve into the reasons why the film resonated.

I am just going to say that it is powerful.  Watch it and take what you want away from it.

Haunting us, Daunting us, Taunting us

A powerful piece that struck a chord, hat tip to a certain accented gentleman.

Thomas Hardy’s 1899 poem – 

The Going of the Battery [Wives’ Lament] 

O it was sad enough, weak enough, mad enough
Light in their loving as soldiers can be
First to risk choosing them, leave alone losing them
Now, in far battle, beyond the South Sea! . . .

Rain came down drenchingly; but we unblenchingly
Trudged on beside them through mirk and through mire,
They stepping steadily--only too readily!
Scarce as if stepping brought parting-time nigher.

Great guns were gleaming there, living things seeming there,
Cloaked in their tar-cloths, upmouthed to the night;
Wheels wet and yellow from axle to felloe,
Throats blank of sound, but prophetic to sight.

Gas-glimmers drearily, blearily, eerily
Lit our pale faces outstretched for one kiss,
While we stood prest to them, with a last quest to them
Not to court perils that honour could miss.

Sharp were those sighs of ours, blinded these eyes of ours,
When at last moved away under the arch
All we loved. Aid for them each woman prayed for them,
Treading back slowly the track of their march.

Someone said: "Nevermore will they come: evermore
Are they now lost to us." O it was wrong!
Though may be hard their ways, some Hand will guard their ways,
Bear them through safely, in brief time or long.

Yet, voices haunting us, daunting us, taunting us,
Hint in the night-time when life beats are low
Other and graver things . . . Hold we to braver things,
Wait we, in trust, what Time's fulness shall show.

Quote of the week

"Gotta love em, they talk in grunts and curse words, yell to speak, and sometimes smell funny but by God when it's time to step up they [Marines] sure as hell do it right. "  
~ Commenter on Blackfive




Sure got that right!  

Empty Seat

Recently I had a birthday.  I had a great time with friends and family.  Enjoyed a lunch and dinner at two of my favorite places to eat.  Mostly I felt blessed by all the people I get to share life with.

However, the worst part of deployments are the empty seats where your loved one should be.  It is the second birthday that Bestie has missed because he is in a war zone.  He's missed several more being stationed across the country.  At the dinner and when we were goofing off and telling stories that night, I had fun.  I enjoyed myself.  But I still felt like his presence was missing in the whole affair.

I wish he could have been there to share in our fun and have some of the AMAZING cake that Sandy baked for me.  But he did what he could.  My heart was lifted by a slightly garbled phone call from far away and a energetic birthday wish from him.  Getting to here him and have him sound good is an excellent birthday gift, if he cannot be here to share the fun.

I am also aware in these moments, of those families whose empty seat was never filled.   My heart hurts for them in the knowledge that they won't get even the phone calls any longer.

Again, I am reminded of how blessed I am.