The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears. Not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy,and
has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a chevy small block V8.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and
latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.He is self- sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.He has stood atop mountains of
dead bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have falle in combat and is unashamed
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home,he defends their right to be disrespectful. Just as did his
Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years He has asked nothing in return, except our friend- ship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
Author Unknown
Sent to us by Michelle Myers
GOT YOUR BACK
I am a caring mother, my son has gone to war,
My mind is filled with worries I have never known before.
Everyday I try to keep my thoughts from turning black,
I may be scared, but I am proud - my son has got your back.
I am a strong and loving wife, with a husband soon to go,
There are times I'm terrified in a way most never know.
I bite my lip, and force a smile as I watch my husband pack,
My heart may break, but I am proud - my husband's got your back.
I am a small and precious child, my dad's been sent to fight,
The only place I'll see his face is in my dreams at night.
He will be gone too many days for my young mind to keep track,
I may be sad, but I am proud -My daddy's got your back.
And I am a soldier, serving proudly, standing tall.
I fight for freedom, yours and mine, by answering this call.
I do my job while knowing the thanks it sometimes lacks -
Say a prayer that I'll come home. It's me whose got your back.
