On This Memorial Day...

I happened to drive by the Los Angeles National Cemetery yesterday while taking the boys back home to their grandparents home in order for them to attend to their grandparents 45 Wedding Anniversary festivities.

Looking out over the freeway from a south bound lane doing 70 miles an hour, the gray morning fog and heavy dew lay across the patches of green and brown grasses that swathed the many spires of white and gray tombstones arranged in neat formations across that hallowed patch of ground nestled within the hustle and bustle of an early Sunday morning in Westwood.

I pointed to the cemetery as it passed by and said to the children, "Look guys - look at all those flags. Doesn't the cemetery look so beautiful with all of the flags in place?" My sons, occupied with resting in the back seat, or watching the passing traffic quickly looked to their left to see the fleeting site and uttered only, "Yeah."

Content with their answer, I dropped them off and then decided to stop by the cemetery on my way back home to take some pictures and even pay my respects to my fellow fallen brothers and sisters in arms.

I don't know why, but for some reason, this Memorial Day holiday really compelled me to do this. Really, I had never done it before in the past but something about all of this turmoil with war, unrest and the chance of being activated to fight and protect yet again and struck a chord that resonated within me and fluttered through me like the many flags dancing and waving to me across that green field.

So, getting off the freeway, I drove into the entrance and found myself not alone but amongst other strangers that like me that had come to take their pictures of this beautiful and patriotic site. Almost before I knew it, I found myself walking along the fields and grave sites, up and down the avenues looking with a mixture of awe, respect, remorse and gratitude.

I could hear the din of the freeway, which sort of detracted from the overall effect of this solemn and sacred place. I wished to myself that it was just a tad bit quieter somehow. Anyway, I managed to walk up San Juan Hill Road and saw an older couple taking pictures and beautifying a grave site up ahead. I ventured forward, awkwardly trying not to disturb their ritual. I found our eyes meeting and the elderly gentlemen said, "Please, go ahead and take pictures if you wish" Looking at the marble stone, I read it and saw a name of a PFC who was just 20 years old when he died in March 2005 in Ar-Ramadi - the very place I had been for the first 5 months of my Iraqi tour. We talked about the Army and my assignment in Ar-Ramadi and I told him that the unrest was just a low rumble while I was there. A few mortar attacks and a few IED's had claimed only a few lives to that end when I had eventually left there. Our conversation carried on and eventually he asked in his broken English, "Do you think we belong in Iraq?" I was caught off guard by the question and managed to stammer and trip over my words, "Well, I guess...I really don't know." was all I could muster. I explained to him that I believed that my service was purposeful and meaningful and that as a medic and Hospital Corpsman, my job is to heal and assist in any way I could. I told him that I knew full well what it means to be a soldier or a sailor in service and in war. There is a possibility that I could die - whether that is justified or not, only time will tell. Convictions and truths about war are seldom in alignment - there is always something that we can see and focus upon, and there is so much more that lies just below the surface that we cannot see or dare not see for whatever reason.

I thanked him and wished him and his wife well. I told them that I was sorry for their loss and hoped that they could find some consolation in this all.

Walking away, my mind and spirit were both in a bit of turmoil. I cannot accurately describe the feelings I had at the time, but it was one of both confusion and a bit of enlightenment. I cannot sum it up accurately, but I will give it my best shot. If I manage to lose you along the way, I apologize. Anyway, I have come to realize that over time, there is an evolution of any person who has found themselves called into service to fight and perhaps die in war. There is a mixture of fear and fearlessness that grabs you. Swept up in a wave of false bravado, you put on your "warface" and you you boast, brag and joke your way to the front of the battle.

When you get there, you realize that war is not all its cracked-up to be and that death is an all too real possibility which in turn, makes you cling to life that much more. It is an emotional roller coaster that you ride for a few weeks until you come to realize that to live in the fear of death and destruction is both crippling and naive. Somewhere in the 4th and 5th weeks of my tour in Iraq, I managed to "let go" of everything that had been holding me back, and embraced everything that may or may not be because it seemed the right thing to do at the time.

Regardless of the steps in the evolutionary process of any instrument of military force, I have come to discover that a warrior does not pray or wish for war, but does so for peace and tranquility. He or she trains for battles they hope they will never have to fight, but when called upon to do so, will be a sharpened precision-like instrument used to persuade the argument of peace and not a slashing or careless hacking blade of costly war. Many battles are fought on the lines, both personal, emotional and physical. The obstacles that must lay before us all as a nation must be overcome together. While we stand divided, we show weakness in the eyes of our enemies and our vulnerability is easily exploited for all of the world to see.

I don't know if there is a right or wrong answer to ending this war. But, I feel that sometimes, the most simple of answers seems to be the best. We managed to get ourselves into this mess, we have taken on the responsibility of teaching a fledgling government of learning how to crawl, walk and run once again, it is our duty to see it through to whatever end it shall be. To do anything less than promised, would lead to our demise. I am not one to wish for battle or for war, but I do believe that a promise made should be a promise kept, especially on a world stage and front. We would soil our credibility and hurt our nation to a point that our demise would almost be assured. I do not think that anyone who has come before me or shall follow in my footsteps should have be asked to give their lives for any one cause other than liberty, freedom and survival. The 50,000 buried in Westwood fought and died for those values. I will be the last man on Earth to say that their sacrifices meant nothing.

What I guess I am trying to say is that it does not matter if I agree or disagree with this war. What matters is that I am doing what I can, when I can to assure that those principals of freedom, liberty and hope manage to stay alive in an "instant society" that has grown lazy with action, reaction and having what they want, when they want without having to struggle, work or strive to fight for what is rightfully theirs. It makes me quite uncomfortable to see a congress willing to fight our battles from a desk and set guidelines for our strategies without a single one of them willing to pick-up a weapon and a kevlar and man a checkpoint in Fallujah, Tikrit or Ramadi. I grow increasingly agitated by people who pop-off their opinions or use their celebrity to sway the populations in embracing a doctrine of their own choosing that is perhaps more detrimental to the men and women in uniform than any IED or RPG ambush could ever be. I wince in pain every time someone spouts off about war just to hear the drone of their own voice without offering any solid or credible solutions to bring about a peace that would be lasting, rightful and true.

I am thankful for our support and I realize that the abundance of the American public would like to see this war end and see everyone come home. I too echo that sentiment, because Americans are not Iraqi's and therefore, do not belong in a country named Iraq - we belong in America with our families, friends and loved ones. With that being said, if you truly support us, let us do our job and bring closure to this that would make our sacrifices seem worthwhile and meaningful.

On this Memorial Day 2007, I wish all the men and women who have served before me, all those that continue to serve and those who will follow behind me to never forget the scarifies that were made to make this country a shining beacon of hop, justice and freedom and equality to so many in an otherwise unlucky and oppressed world.

Humbly, I merely say, "thank you" for everything you have given to us all...