Open Letter From A Soldier
As I sat down on a flat rock, grateful for the ten minute break, I bent over to lace up my boot that had come loose some time earlier, when a torn section of the daily news, that I had been saving for a week to read, fell out of my breast pocket. Without a pause, I began to read the bold print of a story, in which the caption read. “Convicted prisoner’s rights violated”. As I read on and the story unfolded, it appeared that the prisoner in question, a third time convicted murderer, protested that his rights had been violated because he was not allowed a choice between HBO and Movie Channel, and only Movie Channel had been supplied for his viewing. The mentioned prisoner also reported that his civil rights had been violated just the week before when during a mass housing movement he had been forced to spend two nights in what he considered to be substandard living conditions because he was put in a cell that was less then the required 81 square feet.
Having been given the order by our troop leader to move out, I was unable to finish reading the story, but throughout the day it played on my mind. Had this become the society we were here fighting for? Where a convicted criminal had rights to more than the average citizen? What about Joe who died today while protecting our way of life, An E-3, the pension his wife and two children will receive won’t be enough for her to make a choice between HBO and Movie Channel. I’d be willing to bet that his children’s bedrooms are smaller than 81 square feet, given the amount of rent she will be able to afford on his death benefits.
As the day went on, I wondered, what it would be like to take a stroll on a sandy beach, or to sit on a park bench and watch people at play. I wondered what made me choose to give these things up, to be here ankle deep in mud and bugs, thousands of miles away from anyone or anything that meant anything to me.
I thought again about this convicted killer and his rights to his choice of television programming, and again of Joe’s wife and two small kids. Then all at once I realized, it was way past time for me to turn in my boots and go home, I was no longer fighting for the American way of life, I no longer had any idea why I was here, but I knew now without a doubt, that if this is what our society had come to, it was way past time to go.
Author Unknown
Contributed by Tazzy
