Sunday, August 5, 2012

28AUG04

Entry Date: August 28, 2004
You think I wake up every morning doing combat simulations in full battle rattle with my warface painted on in camoflage and that the pain facades into my duty uniform as I excel in my tasks and drills as an American soldier. You think I am surrounded by peers who are disciplined, seasoned, well-trained, and motivated killers who stand beside me in all that I act in doing. You think I am respected, well-educated by people that want to see me succeed. You think that becuase I've never been to battle that I haven't seen a solider fall out, cry, bleed, or die. Well, you're wrong...I have drenched myself in sweat and sand while waiting for nerve agents to pass through the air while half-suffocating in a gas mask and feeling my skin burn as if someone were melting it off my face and body. I have rolled in feces to be taught a lesson on the proper wear of my uniform. I have pushed myself through every pain that my body could hand to me and performed at one hundred percent or more from day to day learning more than my brian could absorb to better myself, to gain respect, to get that one day of the week that I was allowed, not guarenteed, a little more rest than usual.I have accomplished things I would have never thought to try and things that I have always wanted to do; I have also completed. I have built an internal support system that allows me to function effectively on my own as well as with a team. I am confident, disciplined, educated, and tactical, even though I may look, feel, and seem broken. Don't try to fix me, I am a warrior. I am the heart, soul, and spirit of a soldier and my body is a machine but someone forgot the oil and it is now creating too much friction in areas that now need repair. But a soldier never shows her pain, her fear, the strength she is lacking to obtain. Strongwilled and bullheaded is her nature.

This entry is followed by a poem.

~Living in the Legacy of an Honorable Inspiration~
Written July 17, 2004

Senseless,
thinking about past conversation,
telling him it was spiritual,
telling him it was Godly.

Breathtaking,
living in their legacy,
dressing up in my duty uniform,
dressing myself to serve.

Honorable,
doing what I thought couldn't be done,
told him I admire them,
told him they were my inspiration.

Fulfilling,
walking in the footsteps of history,
living the life of a soldier,
living the legacy many left behind.



Years before I joined the service, a friend of my father and I were talking about Arlington National Cemetary. I told him that I thought that the soldiers who were put to rest in that field were like Gods. They gave their lives so that we could live. Years later while in the service, I got the chance to visit Arlington National Cemetary. It was the only place in Washington D.C. that I absolutely could not leave without visiting. It was breath taking. It was godsmacking. I remember looking at my dogtags several times while walking through the countless graves thinking about the conversation that I had with former Marine, Michael Roth, about Arlington. A couple of years ago, I saw Mike and he told me that he still has the picture that I drew the night that we talked. It was a picture of Arlington.

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