Regardless of the politics of any conflict one thing is for sure: It ain’t the fault of those young folks on the ground who just hope and pray to stay alive and get back home.
Whenever I see a service or police person as a patient I always close with the same statement, and I mean it. “I appreciate what you do for me. I’m too old to protect myself anymore and you put yourself in harm’s way to see it to I am free to be a Doc and try to do a little good. Anything else I can do for you?”
My dad’s big brother died in France in WWII. Dad rarely speaks of it, but of course has never forgotten. Like many towns around the country we have a monument on the Courtsquare. His name along with many others is etched on there for all time.
We play a gig every so often on the Square. Every time I go by there I stop and look his name up on the monument and say a silent prayer. I didn’t have the privilege to know him, but everyone around here says he was a wonderful young man. I’ve seen pictures. He was a good-looking boy with this big smile. They say he was a shutter-bug. I wonder what all he could have done with more than twenty short years. I guess we’ll know in eternity.
Hats off to all who serve.
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