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The Fallen
May. 1st, 2004 12:32 amJust a short entry before my main one:
Whether or not you caught tonight's "Nightline" -- whether you even COULD or not, considering many ABC stations were not allowed to air it... know that the names of the soldiers that died in Iraq remain the same. Their faces, whether committed to memory, recorded to tape, or forgotten by tomorrow, mean something to somebody, somewhere.
721 names, and 737 total, as of today. I don't think I knew any of the brave souls that gave their lives up for freedom, for anti-terrorism, for whatever it is we're fighting for. And I can't really be glad because of that, because the names of the people that were read... somebody knew them. Somebody was their husband, their wife, their boyfriend or girlfriend, their brother or sister, aunt or uncle, grandparent or parent. People not far from you have lost someone dear to their heart.
There was a Thomas Sweet II on the list... who knows, maybe he's a relative of mine? It saddens me to think that if he was, I never got the chance to know him. A lot of the people on that list were my age... many of them younger. Those people could have been my classmates, my crushes, my schoolmates or even my rivals. So many of them... 18, 19, 20, 21. I kept holding my hands together, praying I wouldn't hear a name I knew. But the faces... a lot of them were familiar, even if the names didn't ring a bell. And I found myself crying all the same, even without knowing for sure if I knew these people.
I don't think I need to. You don't need to know people to recognize that they died before their time, that they died for a cause they believed in, and that they left a lot of people they loved and loved them behind. I've never been sure whether I'm for the war or against it or what... but I do know that I am impossibly PROUD of the soldiers who have died... proud of the ones still out there, and proud of the ones I have the honor of knowing personally.
I have friends in the military. Chris Garcia told me he's in the Marines; Jason Cunningham and countless other people from my Freshman year in JROTC (all of whom came to mean a great deal to me) are in the military; reserve or otherwise. I've met people on trips, during encampment, and during competitions that might be out there in Iraq, in Kuwait-- wherever they are, they're not home. And they might be at risk. Who knows what those people are thinking or feeling right now?
I have a very strong attachment to the military because of JROTC. I might not have stuck with it like I should have, but I knew what the uniform stood for, what the pins and ribbons meant, and what the service meant. When I first entered, I fully intended to stick through all four years, and maybe even enroll in SROTC. I never did, and I do regret it. I learned early on I wasn't cut out for the military, but that won't stop me from being the damn BIGGEST cheerleader of those soldiers --those guys, those girls, my FRIENDS-- that there ever has been. I might not go walking around in BDUs or wearing American flag-themed clothes, but in my mind, those people that have died died BRAVELY, and even if they died accidentally, or if they didn't want to be there...
They died with honor. No one can ever take that away from them.
For everyone out there who lost someone to the war, you have my utmost sympathy, and my truest condolences. There's bound to be at least one person here on LJ that lost someone... those people didn't just wake up in Iraq one day and decide to start firing.
All the soldiers, all the fighters, all the people:
They will be missed.
Whether or not you caught tonight's "Nightline" -- whether you even COULD or not, considering many ABC stations were not allowed to air it... know that the names of the soldiers that died in Iraq remain the same. Their faces, whether committed to memory, recorded to tape, or forgotten by tomorrow, mean something to somebody, somewhere.
721 names, and 737 total, as of today. I don't think I knew any of the brave souls that gave their lives up for freedom, for anti-terrorism, for whatever it is we're fighting for. And I can't really be glad because of that, because the names of the people that were read... somebody knew them. Somebody was their husband, their wife, their boyfriend or girlfriend, their brother or sister, aunt or uncle, grandparent or parent. People not far from you have lost someone dear to their heart.
There was a Thomas Sweet II on the list... who knows, maybe he's a relative of mine? It saddens me to think that if he was, I never got the chance to know him. A lot of the people on that list were my age... many of them younger. Those people could have been my classmates, my crushes, my schoolmates or even my rivals. So many of them... 18, 19, 20, 21. I kept holding my hands together, praying I wouldn't hear a name I knew. But the faces... a lot of them were familiar, even if the names didn't ring a bell. And I found myself crying all the same, even without knowing for sure if I knew these people.
I don't think I need to. You don't need to know people to recognize that they died before their time, that they died for a cause they believed in, and that they left a lot of people they loved and loved them behind. I've never been sure whether I'm for the war or against it or what... but I do know that I am impossibly PROUD of the soldiers who have died... proud of the ones still out there, and proud of the ones I have the honor of knowing personally.
I have friends in the military. Chris Garcia told me he's in the Marines; Jason Cunningham and countless other people from my Freshman year in JROTC (all of whom came to mean a great deal to me) are in the military; reserve or otherwise. I've met people on trips, during encampment, and during competitions that might be out there in Iraq, in Kuwait-- wherever they are, they're not home. And they might be at risk. Who knows what those people are thinking or feeling right now?
I have a very strong attachment to the military because of JROTC. I might not have stuck with it like I should have, but I knew what the uniform stood for, what the pins and ribbons meant, and what the service meant. When I first entered, I fully intended to stick through all four years, and maybe even enroll in SROTC. I never did, and I do regret it. I learned early on I wasn't cut out for the military, but that won't stop me from being the damn BIGGEST cheerleader of those soldiers --those guys, those girls, my FRIENDS-- that there ever has been. I might not go walking around in BDUs or wearing American flag-themed clothes, but in my mind, those people that have died died BRAVELY, and even if they died accidentally, or if they didn't want to be there...
They died with honor. No one can ever take that away from them.
For everyone out there who lost someone to the war, you have my utmost sympathy, and my truest condolences. There's bound to be at least one person here on LJ that lost someone... those people didn't just wake up in Iraq one day and decide to start firing.
All the soldiers, all the fighters, all the people:
They will be missed.
