Anti-war wounds

Full article (here).

Paul joined the Army when he was a teenager — seven years before Sept. 11, 2001. He joined before we knew what the world would look like today. He joined because he feels that it is his duty to serve his country.

And thank God. Because what I now understand is this: The future of our country — our honor, our dignity, our freedom — rests on the shoulders of volunteers. Volunteers! And if my husband didn’t go to defend us, who would?

He didn’t have to go. His brother and father didn’t. My brother didn’t. (My father did, during Vietnam, but I never thought once about his service or sacrifice until I married Paul.)All of us could choose to stay home with our families and wait until the terrorists come to find us individually. I’m pretty sure that in Monroe, Ore., population 680, chances are good they never would.

But instead, Paul and thousands of men and women like him left their families, put their lives on hold, and went to meet the terrorists head on. And shouldn’t our reaction to that be solemn, tearful, overwhelming gratitude?

Forget “support.” We owe them our thanks.