Heroes

I read Ben Stein's column you sent me. His last one for 'Monday Night at Morton's.' I read it with a strange mixture of pride and sadness. I'm glad he wrote it and glad that other people see that there are deeper issues in America than Monday Night Football and the Emmys. Ben Stein is brave enough to tell people they are stupid, and for that he is a refreshing, if not lonesome, voice.

I've read different accounts of heroes. I've read how people twelve thousand miles from this battleground view our soldiers. These always strike me as distant and impersonal perceptions of a reality in which the writers have no frame of reference. They have no more met a hero than I have met a movie star. They no more understand valor than they understand the difference between Kurds and Arabs. They hear about stories, they watch the evening news and they feel better about themselves because they tell their friends they support the troops. Then they fill up their JetSkis on $2 gasoline and blissfully spend a weekend balancing their own drunkenness with the ability to look cool on their watercraft. Their frame of reference is their reality. This reality is what they base their decisions, political views and self-righteousness on. It is a reality that does not know how simple valor is.

I suppose it is somewhat noble for a man to commend those whom he does not understand. Perhaps, even, this is a measure of patriotism. However, my contention is with that person who only uses words to express his nationalistic pride. Would that person be more dedicated and more valuable to the nation by doing something? A simple, personal thank you card or letter to a soldier, firefighter or policeman. Or volunteering at the USO to give coffee to the guy coming home from a year dodging bullets and roadside bombs in a foreign land. How about just being there when he gets off the plane? Here's a novel idea: how about voting?

I understand that this is a shallow, self-serving wish. I know it is impossible to change a whole nation's center of gravity. I do believe that we will never 'win' a global War on Terror unless the common man is willing to accept that such a war exists. All of the voices in America can ring for all eternity, but where are the echoes if you don't stand in the canyon?

I have noticed subtle changes in my own frame of reference and realize that this is probably inevitable, given my experiences here in Iraq. Instead of $2 gasoline, I worry more about the headspace-and-time on a M2 .50 cal machine gun. Or the priorities of filling up every truck as soon as it comes off patrol because you just don't know when you have to go out again. I find I am more interested in the correspondence of my soldiers than I am with my own letters home. I apologize to you for this.

Having been here for nine months, I feel a certain duty to report some real heroes. I see how the softness has faded to hard lines on the faces of my soldiers. Doubtless, others have seen more and done more than we have in our little corner of contested ground. That, however, does not take from the hundreds of missions that these men have completed. We have learned our lessons the hard way and been made better for it. There is an odd, overwhelming pride which I feel as I remember some very intimate moments from the last few months. These men, my men, are the reason I do this job. Not the pay, not the resume, and not the God and Country stuff. It's these guys who have become my heroes.

I remember the first night the FOB was attacked. Rockets screamed inbound and tracer fire arced across the sky over our heads. You cannot know what dark is until you see its oily blackness broken by muzzle-blast and rocket engines and explosions you know are only feet or inches from your friends. Who are heroes? Heroes were my men who ignored the chaos and the fear and ran from shelter to their howitzers. Heroes, who concentrated on their job and answered back with a thundering crash of 155mm diplomacy that stopped the attack and saved lives. Heroes did this, not because they were told to, but because they had to.

I know another man, a medic who did his job. SPC ***** was in a convoy in Mosul that took an IED to a Humvee. [He] administered treatment to the wounded and stabilized the most critical. His actions were professional and precise. Only after he had treated all the casualties would he allow himself to be evacuated for the injury that had him doing his duty with but one good eye.

I will never forget the simple, awful joy I felt on another occasion when I saw one of my Humvees come boiling out of the swirling dust and smoke of another IED. The bomb had blown between two of my trucks and had temporarily knocked out the radio communication between those trucks and myself. Sgt ***** brought his truck through the blast and did not worry about instructions he couldn't hear on a radio that didn't work. He executed the battle-drill he knew by heart and maneuvered his truck to lock down on the group of people who was closest to the scene. Then he and his driver proceeded to clear the closest small building of any possible enemy while his gunner provided security to the perimeter we had established to secure our wounded and ourselves. He and his crew only did their job, but they are still my heroes.

The other day SPC ***** took a mine-strike. A piece of shrapnel blew a two-inch hole in his body armor and knocked him on his rear in the back of the truck. It took out his wind and would have taken out his heart had it not been for the body armor. Seconds later, he was standing behind his gun, doing his job. That night he returned to us from the hospital with a lot of scratches, some shrapnel wounds, a helluva bruise on his back and a profile for light duty. I will never forget the intensity in his eyes when he respectfully told me, "Sir, if you put me behind a desk, I'll hit you in the teeth. . ., Sir. My job is out THERE!" SPC ***** is my hero, and you know what? So is the guy who made that ceramic plate he was wearing.

PVT ***** doesn't have to be here. His family is big in business. He joined the Army to earn a life he could have been given. He spends a lot of time talking about 'his girl'. He's young and brash and takes some reining in, at times. But he still rolls out the gate every day with the same enthusiasm he had nine months ago. The edges in his face are a little harder now, the lines a little deeper but he can still tell you what every person on the last block had in their hands when we rolled by.

I have another Hero whom I never met. Another guy who never had to do what he did. Pat Tillman heard the call after 9/11 and dropped a star NFL career to become an Army Ranger. He didn't talk about it, he just did it. And he, alone, paid the price on a dusty road in southern Afghanistan doing a job he couldn't tell his closest family member about.

I saw a kid I went to High School with the other day. SGT ***** has rolled his Stryker from one end of this country to the other and done nothing more than what was asked of him. He's participated in every brigade operation since we hit country. He has appraising eyes, now, which suspiciously pry yours, and weigh your value against his experience. We talked about his family some and the leave he was able to take before the slots got screwed up. I asked him how he had been holding up and he replied simply "I've seen my share, Sir." I didn't press. We understood each other. Those four or five words summed up this whole experience for all of us. I've seen my share.

So I hear folks back home talk about heroes, but what have they done to earn heroes? Have they earned the sacrifice the men around me make very day? These men, who ride behind the guns and walk the streets and train the Iraqi Security Forces, in order to give the Iraqi people the same freedom that the bluster-heads back home take for granted.

My soldiers. These are my heroes. And they will never drop their heads for any man. The Army says I am supposed to lead these men. I think I wouldn't work with anyone else. They are better than I and better than anyone I know back home. Not because of what they've done but because they have done it. We've all seen our share, but these guys don't use it as an excuse. It's just a fact. A fact that makes them heroes.

They have no more met a hero than I have met a movie star.

Who does our “esteemed” media want us to hail as “heroes”?
The ball player who was brave enough to actually show up for work.
The person who died from an attack. A “hero” only because he died.
Anyone who is employed as a fireman or police officer. Not because of any act of bravery, but just because of their chosen employment.
The reporter who chooses to cover a story in a war zone. No heroic action is necessary - just being there qualifies.

I worry more about the headspace-and-time on a M2 .50 cal machine gun.

A note to pass on to the young men in Afghanistan and Iraq:
When you screw in the barrel, just run it all the way in and back it out two clicks. It’ll work just fine.

.

American Soldiers fighting...
For the Freedom of Others,
Those that train them and...
Those who wait for them...
To come home...
Or not...
are...

............HOLY...!!!!

Signed:.."ALOHA RONNIE" Guyer / Veteran-"WE WERE SOLDIERS" Battle of IA DRANG-1965
http://www.lzxray.com/guyer_set1.htm

"MODERN DAY HEROES" Contributing Author
http://www.ModernDayHeroes.com/aloha

.

In my book they are heroes, but I recall some private saying at his medals ceremony (purple heart and silver star I believe) something like "Yeah - the medals are nice - kind of saying that I did what I was supposed to do".

I was in college during Nam and have always felt a bit guilty because I did not go. I probably should thank God instead.

I came close to doing the same thing. I turned down a full scholarship with stipend for the University of Pittsburgh - because when I was looking the place over the Dean of Men assumed I would attend. When He handed me a fall class schedule, dorm assignment and the paperwork for the scholarship I walked out - because he did not ask me first if I wanted to attend.
What fools some kids are!
I later volunteered for the draft and volunteered for Viet Nam. I would not trade that experience for anything.

"Yeah - the medals are nice - kind of saying that I did what I was supposed to do".

Particularly the one he took for pulling the man from the river. In our unit, if someone had not retrieved a man overboard he would have been nailed for dereliction of duty. For doing what he was expected to do - and nothing more - he is awarded a Bronze Star and hailed a “hero”.

Thank you for your service to our country.

The guy I was talking (Pvt. Dwayne Turner) is an airborne medic who got injured during an attack earlier in the war, and was wounded from the initial mortar blast (arm wound I think?). Anyway - he takes cover behind a wall for a second and sees others injured all around him out in the open.

He goes out into the open and under fire to retrieve some guys and gets shot in the leg. He stops again at the wall and notices he's bleeding a lot. But then figures "it can't be that bad or I would be dead by now".

He goes back out into the fray. He gets wounded again - but continues to rescue a total of 16 guys! 2 of the guys he rescued would surely have died. (And how many more would have been wounded again?)

The guy is (was?! hopefully)a Private. For some reason (movies?) I always think as them as just doing the grunt work and leaving the heroics to the cigar-chomping sargent.

Lots (most?) of the medals I see beeing awarded seem to be to privates. Anyway - their humble attitude and "just doing my job" attitude is amazing when I think about the hazards they face and the job they are doing.

There were two groups of people who really impressed me in Viet Nam. One was the Navy Seabees, the other was the Navy Corpsmen (no offense to Army medics - I never worked close with them). While I was snuggled down in a bunker at Dong Hoa the Corpsmen would go out and tend to the Seabees who were getting hit on an all to frequent basis offloading our boats. The Seabees were all volunteers out of Da Nang.
I was Army, not Navy - at the time we were helping to bail out the Navy and Marines in I Corp during Tet ‘68.

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