Remember the Men in Uniform

I do not usually read forwards and chain mail, but this one--since it wasn't messily-typed and junky looking--caught my attention. And it kept it.

This Independence Day, I hope you will take more than a moment to remember our men stationed around the world fighting for our country. Regradless of your views on the war, Bush, and domestic spying, we all still have a duty to "support our troops." May this open your mind to the sacrifice thousands of young men are making. Young men hardly older then me...

The average age of the military man is 20 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy beer, but old enough to die for his country.

He never really cared much for work, but he has never collected unemployment either. He's a little selfish and would rather wax his own car than wash his father's.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a "nothing special", has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll, country, hip-hop or jazz.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.

He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job. He will do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful. He is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.

Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood. After you read this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our troops stationed the world over. Pray that they will be protected, that their families will be blessed, and tell Yahweh you are thankful for men who are willing to die for our freedom.