Originally posted on http://www.fredericksburgchamber.org/chamberlink.htm
About this time of year, we’re accustomed to reading articles about what freedom means and how we have so much of it. Usually, at some point, we're also told that we all take freedom for granted and should be terribly ashamed of ourselves. Don’t be. I take it for granted, too – and after three tours in Iraq as a Marine Infantryman, another tour as a journalist and a final tour (in Afghanistan) also a journalist, I have no excuse whatsoever. Go easy on yourselves; we usually only appreciate things when we discover they’re long gone. I hope and pray that no such condition ever befalls us.
I am much more interested in the cost of freedom, for that is something that is paid and repaid constantly. Moreover, the price continues to inflate daily. While these are debts that none of us can reasonably repay, we can at least begin with acknowledging the price. An honest servicemember these days – here presumably on the tail end of two wars – will tell you that wartime military culture is one of nearly constant, profound loss. And nor does it end when one sheds the uniform and dons slacks, a shirt and a tie. In fact, the costs appear to increase.
It goes without saying that combat troops are going to experience atrocities and – more likely than not – somebody isn’t going to make it home. We all know it, we all brace for it, but no amount of training and preparation can soften the blow. We deal with it, I guess; some of us not so well. However anticipated or expected it may have been, it always seems unjust, cruel, and heartbreaking.
By the time of this printing, I imagine that the death toll will be at least 6,050 men and women lost to the Global War on Terror. Servants to this country who will never grow old and enjoy it. All veterans knew at least a couple, and we all still miss them. Even more unacceptable than this, I have lost twice as many comrades to suicide as I have lost to the enemy. Since just 2007, more than a dozen of my military peers, superiors and friends have taken their own lives. Something about combat stuck with them and they couldn’t shake it. Nobody adds this to the cost of war, though. However much we do, it never seems to be enough. Quick fixes evade us all.
In addition to ensuring the safety of our own country, it seems that we’re frequently fighting for somebody who doesn’t yet understand what freedom even looks like. People who still cringe at leaders, because leadership meant authority, which in their culture was synonymous with oppression; people who are afraid and have always been that way, knowing no stronger an emotion; people who won’t know what they’ve gained until most of us are dead and gone with old age. People who still deserve a chance; one that our Armed Forces have made available. I hope they seize the opportunity before it vanishes again.
No amount of travel in foreign countries has diminished my belief that the United States is a great nation. For all our faults, squabbling and missteps, we are a land of plenty, a culture motivated by something other than fear, and still a garden of opportunity that rewards hard work, honesty, and ethic. This is – and always will be – home. When I travel abroad, I miss it.
I am actually proud that we scream and natter at each other over political differences. Elsewhere, people kill the opposition and beat those who attempt to vote for them. I am pleased that we have interfaith councils and organizations. In other countries, devotees of various faiths are too busy barricading doors and begging for police protection to bother. Sometimes, the police are the very ones harassing them. Our relatively small problems are immense to us because we’re unbothered by what plagues probably half this planet: oppression.
And so, odd as it sounds, it is my deepest desire that while we fight for the freedom of others, we continue to take our own for granted. It means that our freedoms were never jeopardized, which means that the Armed Forces – with total disregard to self, safety and comfort – have honorably completed their mission. My thanks go to those who didn’t live long enough to hear a thank you. My thanks go to those who gave a loved one. My thanks go to a country of servants who continue to answer a call to something far greater than themselves. My thanks are to you, friends. Happy Independence Day; let’s live well.
Copyright © 2011, Ben Shaw, All Rights Reserved