( This is a true story)
Every year comes and goes. With the cycle of the planets and the solar system every year brings memorial day. A day were we remember the fallen and the brave. The sacrifices of the Women and Men of this countries fine military. The sacrifices of so few for so many.
Roughly half a year ago a man asked me the purpose of other people and myself wearing "Operator Caps". If you don't know an "Operator Caps" is baseball style hat with Velcro patches that you can attach Flags and various morale patches. On my cap I proudly display a Betsy Ross flag, the original flag of our great nation.
I told the person that I wore an the caps because I could put an American Flag on them and that it was hard to find a hat with a flag on it. He then asked why with a look that basically told me I was an Idiot on his face. I replied simply " because unlike some people I am proud of my country and I am proud to serve and proud to have fought for that flag..."
I wasn't always like that. My Mother and Father always were sporting patriotic gear. My mother bled Red,White and blue due to my Father being in Force Recon. My Father sported the Colors due to his pride in service and his beloved Marine Corps. To be honest I really didn't understand it either.
I started believing when I shipped my Father off to war in Defense of our country. While he was away I would put American Flag stickers on my skateboard to show my support to the brave men and women. That was pretty much the extent of my patriotism.
Finally the day arrived that my Wife and family shipped me off to the Iraqi War. I did two tours there with the motley-est crew ever...Cobra Company!. I came home from the Army and all I had was pride in 1st Armored.
Then the disaster of my life happened, my Beloved wife left my son and me...
I still didn't have pride in my country. I had pride in my service. I wore tan Tanker boots around and my Dad had made me a plaque to place my medals, awards and ribbons on. I placed the awards on my wall and wore the boots with pride.
John Scott once said to me " aren't women cruel?..". This was in reference to the fact that my X-wife would call me and tell me all kinds of nasty things. True I have said before that divorce is ugly and it sure is ugly.
I remember one night she called and proceeded to bombard me with ugliness. The main focus of tonites call was to defile my service to the country. She told the she left me because I joined the Army and that all my overseas tours were thoughtless and heartless. She told me everything I went through was why she hated me and the reason she didn't love me anymore. She told me she stopped loving me after I joined the Army.
Most people would say that they would tell the girl to F-off and hang up or that they told them something bitter and tough...not this guy. I sat there in silence trying not to cry. I sat there and saw all the anguish and pain of being deployed to war. I saw the beauty of my little family and I saw her telling me all these hurtful things. I cannot begin to describe the feeling of a broken heart breaking all the way through to two separate halves.
After she hung up I sat there with the phone still to my ear. I remember my apartment was dark. I sat there staring at my plaque with my awards feeling my anger rising in the pit of my stomach. I dropped the phone to the ground and rose to my feet, reached out and snatched the ribbons and medals off the wall. I turned to the door and strode out bending down without breaking my stride to grab my boots off the floor by the door.
Quickly walking I went out the gate to the dumpster, I wasn't able to hold the tears back anymore and my face had become wet. I arrived at the dumpster, flung back the lids and angrily threw the medals and the boots into the dumpster. As I threw them in I cursed the day I joined the Army and regretted the war and the COBRAS. I HATED my country that sent me to the war that cost me me family.
I sank to the curb sobbing and sat down.
I began to ask why did I have to be one of the ones that made it back. Why couldn't I have been one of the ones that didn't make it? To be one of the ones that gave it all. Why did I come back to this hell?
To have made the ultimate sacrifice and to not feel this pain.
I sat there with my knees to my chest, head on my arms in the dark by a dumpster. I sat there thinking of Anerios and Payne, thinking that they gave it all. That they had sacrificed it all.
Then out of nowhere I suddenly realized that my wife said she left me because of the Army and the war.
She made me realize what I had sacrificed. I gave my family to the Army , the war and the country. I gave my family life to America. My family did not survive the war. I had made a sacrifice for my country, I gave almost all I had to give.
I stood up walked to the dumpster and took out the boots and the plaque. I sat down took off my shoes and replaced them with my tanker boots. With my medals and boots I then walked back to the apartment and placed the plaque back on the wall. I laid down on the couch and fell asleep.
Since that day I pretty much have worn American flags or something related to my service. I finally learned the price of a piece of cloth or a patch. I gave everything I had to give and to this day the price is still heavy. There are many people in this country that scoff at the idea but to them they can look at my Betsy Ross, laugh and then they can kiss my ass.
All of us went, not all of us came back and even though many of us did come back, some of us never fully returned. Part of me will always be riding a tank through Sadir city, hoping and dreaming of coming home...
-B
