I've got a few words for George Bush and Dick Cheney, who keep telling me with a smirk and a scowl that "everything has changed" since 9-11. They say I need to show compassion and hug my neighbor -- to find somebody out there I can love like I'd like to be loved myself. We're at war, they say, so just shut up and support the troops.
Back off, chickenhawks. I've spent a lifetime supporting my troops -- my beloved field artillery -- hugging them, loving them like I'd like to be loved myself and being overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of hugs and love I got in return. I was there, shaking my head in wonder as boys arriving for basic training clambered off buses -- long-haired, wide-eyed, apprehensive and dishevelled. And I was there, beaming with pride as proud men emerged ten weeks later -- trim, disciplined, confident and eager to serve their country.
Don't look for me to shut up any time soon. I've got battalions of dogs in this fight, and I take the loss of even one of them personally. There is nothing -- nothing -- more red-white-and-blue than American servicemen and women. In spite of what you two seem to think, American military are not trained to die, but to live. Like you, they have lives, families, plans for the future. But, unlike one of you who smirked as he abandoned his post in time of war, and the other who snarled that he had more important things to do than fight for his country, they don't flinch at the prospect of being wounded or even killed if that's what it takes to protect the rest of us.
Dead or alive, every single man or woman who wears the United States military uniform deserves nothing less than honor, support and -- from the top of Echo Mountain -- recognition. These are MY soldiers -- not yours. So don't toss me a yellow ribbon to tie around a tree. Don't hand me a sign to stick in my yard. And don't tell me to shut up.
Trust me, I hang onto your every word and watch your every move in the vain hope that one of you will have the decency to go to military hospitals and stand beside those who have been mentally and physically shattered by your greedy and senseless war. What a great photo op -- showing your own support for the troops -- showing them you appreciate what they suffered while following your orders. Lie to them if you must. Tell them you know what it's like to spend violent sand-swept nights in spider- and mosquito-infested trenches -- to spend violent sun-blistered days ducking bullets and bombs and shrapnel from enemies coming at you from every direction for reasons that are no longer clear to you.
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