“It’s OK, Mom, I’m a Soldier”

Lately I have been writing to my representatives about my son and what is happening within his body physically and how he will once again be in a war zone but this time with a body less capable than four years ago. I've been speaking out about the madness of sending soldiers back to a war zone over and over again and again - the need to put bodies over there no matter what the bodies can or cannot do - let alone the spirit of the person and what the spirit can or can no longer do. . . .

When my youngest son came to me and said he had enlisted into the military, I have to say my heart sank. No one in our family had belonged to the military. I knew that could possibly be a difficult life, but he told me he wanted to be a soldier and make a difference. It is something he's always wanted to be. I remember the day he left for boot camp. We both cried because I couldn't hold back my tears as I hugged him and he never could stand to see me cry.
I then remember the day he came back from boot camp. I went to the airport to meet him, and there came this man down the walkway, proudly wearing his uniform. I stood, again tears rolling down my face, and he hugged me saying, “Mom, it's okay. I'm a soldier.“
I was proud then, and I am proud of him now.

When 9/11 happened, all the fears in my life came into play. I had a daughter living in New York, and I lost contact with her because of the situation. Once again I held my breath and prayed in the evenings for the safety of one of my children so far away and so much in harm’s way. I also had a son in the military who I knew deep in my heart was going to have to face this enemy, and I found myself holding my breath and praying, hoping that wouldn't be necessary.

Four years ago when the President decided it was more important to invade Iraq than it was to pursue the group that attacked us on 9/11, I spoke out about it in letters. My daughter in New York walked in peace rallies. I couldn't grasp the whole meaning of attacking a nation that didn't attack us, and nothing and no one convinced me that was a good idea.

Unfortunately, my son was called up to go and help invade Iraq. With tears, I sobbed over the phone as I said good-bye to my son, and he told me, “It's okay, mom, I'm a soldier.”
I sat glued to the television days on end. I watched in horror the unfolding of the war. I cried openly for those soldiers who died and for their families and yet was secretly relieved that it wasn't my son who died or our family grieving. I am torn with such horrific feelings. My heart was in my throat the whole time my son was in Iraq. There was a knot in my stomach, and I found myself holding my breath every time the phone would ring or I would see a huge bombing in Iraq.

My son is scheduled to go back for the third time; this time, Afghanistan. He has a family, wife and two little ones. He missed the birth of his first child while he was in Iraq, and then missed a year of her life when she was two, and now will miss another year of her life and that of her brothers. This doesn't even take into consideration his wife and her facing the challenges of life alone while her husband is in a war zone.

I watch my son change over the years -- changed because he has seen things none of us really want to know about or experience. He has been asked to go back to hell three times, and I cannot imagine anyone outside the military that would openly say, “Great, I'll be there in a second.”

Slowly a part of my son is eroding, and I can't stop it. I cannot nourish him any more, and I cannot protect him any more. I love him and will fight for him as he fights for me. But ultimately, all I can do now is 'breathe,' and with every breath speak out and try to help stop this madness that we have allowed our soldiers, our sons and daughters to be led into with no end in sight.

I am a mother of a soldier. I love my son with all my heart and all my soul. I would die for my son. I pray that my words will give life for my son and my children and their children. It is a fine line to walk, to protest an unjust war and to support the men and women in it. Mothers have learned to walk many a fine line, and I find myself supported by other women who too are mothers, who too know the feeling of one's heart in their throats and the knot in their stomach and the moments of holding their breath and praying every night for the safe return of their child.

Before anyone condemns a protester of this war, ask if they have a loved one in it then ask them if they do not support the troops. I find it ironic to be accused of not being a patriot, of not being a true American and being anti support for the troops, for what sane person would want their loved one thrown into the fires of hell and want them to remain there indefinitely? -- SCH

Posted by Augie's Parents