Dear Family and Friends,
Didn't I just write about how shocked I was it was October? And in two
days, it will be November?! Where has the time gone? In some ways, it
seems as if it was just yesterday when I said good bye, threw the truck into
four wheel drive and drove down through the snow drifts to meet the members
of my new unit, the men and women with whom I have bonded in battle, my
brothers and sisters, the officers and soldiers of Task Force Panther. In
other ways, however, it is hard to remember life before that January day.
We all know that we have other lives at home. We remember other work. We
remember favorite foods, places and hobbies.but somehow, those memories are
not as clear as they once were. Like the tide slowing pulling something out
to sea, almost without notice, some great powerful force seems to be pulling
that previous life further and further from us. The longer we are here, the
harder it is to see. The harder it is to remember. In fact, I often hear
soldiers refer to life back home as, "the real world" as if this place is some pretend,
mysterious fantasy land.
Please don't worry. We could never forget you. We hold on to you as tightly
as possible. Sometimes I worry about smothering you as I try to hold you so
closely and yet, I also worry that other people, places and memories are
slipping away. As we talk, some of us are having trouble remembering what
life was like before we came to this place, before we trained in California,
before Mississippi. So please, don't let go of us. If we don't write as
often as you expect, if we don't call as much as you want or if we sound
somewhat distant when we do call, blame it on the tides of combat. Don't
give up on us. We will NEVER give up on you. We are soldiers. We live out
the soldier's creed which says in part, "I will never quit." Few things are
sadder for me than when a soldier comes to the chapel, tears streaming down
his dust covered face and he says, "She's leaving me. She's given up". So
please, don't let go. Don't give up. Hold on. Endurance and perseverance
are often synonymous with victory in the Scriptures. Success comes only to those
who have the steadfastness of heart and hand, to hang in there. So please,
keep holding on and we shall do the same.
While I was out in sector this past week, I was thinking, after a few of our
vehicles were hit by IEDs and we were taking small arms fire (that is, the
terrorists were shooting at us) that we live in two different worlds. Our
world is one of concrete and dust, heavy weapons and massive firepower,
radios and incredible high tech equipment which has no counterpart or use in
the civilian world. We never have to worry about what to wear and I never
hear soldiers complain about strapping on their IBA (interceptor body
armor). Some of our senses, like taste, smell and touch, have been dulled
by the repetition of bland food, dust filled nostrils or the beating of our
bodies racing and fighting over rough terrain. Yet other senses, our sight
and hearing, have almost miraculously and exponentially increased. We
depend on the latter for survival, where as the former are better suited for
other places and times.They are better suited for your world. The one we
left behind, the one slipping from our memory, the one we long to return to.
Fortunately when you drive to work, you do not have to worry about bombs
exploding on the road. We do. When you turn on the radio, it is to listen
to your favorite music, news or sports. We turn on radios to keep open that
critical and literal life line to the FOB so that we can talk to each other
and can call for help if we have TIC (troops in contact, that is, soldiers
being attacked by the enemy. We listen constantly for TIC calls and respond
immediately with NASCAR speed and devastating firepower because our fellow
soldiers' lives may depend on it. No radio call is more important here than
a TIC). We don't worry about stains on our uniforms, we wear them anyway.
We do not worry about how we look, we concern ourselves with making sure our
gear is properly strapped on, all buckles buckled and snaps snapped.
Financial concerns rarely enter our thinking, instead we replay TTPs
(tactics, techniques and procedures) over and over again in our minds.
Cleaning and dusting our rooms is a low priority, but cleaning weapons is a passion for
everyone. And perhaps most interestingly for me as a chaplain, we pray
openly and honestly, on our knees before each and every mission. Some hold
hands, others make the sign of the cross and still others just bow their
heads in humble submission to Almighty God. And this is not something I
started or suggested, this is born spontaneously of soldiers' simple desire
to seek God's protection in the midst of such danger.
So this is our world. It is different than yours. Trying to describe it is
difficult. Perhaps impossible. How can I communicate what it is like to be
in a gun fight (do you even know anyone who has ever been in one?) Or how
can I communicate the fear one sometimes feels outside the wire, wondering
if the next step you take may be your last, or to see a bright flash which
appears to be immediately extinguished by dirt and dust from the same flash
as it ripped into the protective armor of one of your vehicles but which
saved all its occupants? And of course, then there are all those other
experiences or sights, which decency and decorum prohibit me from revealing.
Please don't think I am complaining. I am not. Complaining is not in my
nature, as you know. Please also do not think I am trying to lay a guilt
trip on anyone. Again, I am not. As hard as it may be to believe, I
rejoice that I am here. I gladly accept the dangers and hardships. I
respect yet embrace them. What I am trying to do, however, is to give voice
to the facts of our existence. We endure this world, so that the one we
left behind, will remain safe and secure.
Because as surely as the tide goes out, it comes back in.
The memories of this place will someday fad. They will be replaced by the
sweet joy of being surrounded by you our family and friends, by visiting
those favorite places and eating those much missed foods. Our ears will
echo with the giggling of young children and our eyes, our eyes will behold
the most beautiful sight of all.YOU.
No matter how strong the tides of combat are, they pale in comparison to the
force and strength of the greatest power in all creation.LOVE.
We came here because we love you and our country.
And we shall return home.
For the very same reason.
People back home who tried to improve our world this week include: Wendy and
Jack Farrell, Barbara Greenwood and the Paxton Presbyterian Church, Marilyn
Taylor and the Thompson Group, Martin Sonnier "patio bum", my best bud's
wife Vicky McHenry, LTC Lepri's son Loris and his fellow cadets at the
United States Military Academy, Dee Foster, Myrna Blair and her Wednesday
Morning Bible Study Group, Carolyn Muglia (yep, MAJ Muglia's sister), Jan
McHenry and Courtyard Hair, Charles Hudack, Bruce, Karen, Conner and Shelby
Staudt (thanks for the drawings kids, I put them on my wall locker) COL and
Mrs. Paul Golden, Ms. Disney herself, Lynne Armstrong, Merle and Janet Shaw,
Debbie Shaw (funny card), Jerry and Teri Ferilla, Karen D'Alessandro and VFW
Post 477, future Eagle Scout Marshall Fife (keep up the great work
Marshall), one of my climbing buddies Joe Worden (have great climb in
Patagonia) and his co-workers Al Seaman, Pat Veilleux, Charlie Miller,
Maggie Kern, Bernadette Rist, Nancy Pasierb, Fay Luther, Joanne Bigi and Jan Payne, Jodi Fowler and the Norwin Christian Church MOPS, the Reverend Bobbie Hineline and the saints of the Middle Presbyterian Church, Dawn Walters and the students of Turkeyfoot Elementary School (you can tell they're from Pennsylvania with a name like
that), Hazel Rugh, Barb Oberding, Karolle Blackson, Kim Egan, my dear
parents (who gave me life, freedom and the skills to live bravely), my
loving and always supportive wife Jodi and the woman who causes more mental
health appointments for US postal workers than anyone in history, Judy
Volpatti.
Interestingly, I also received well wishes this week from a US Supreme Court
Justice and David Hasselhoff. Guess which one included a picture of himself
in swimming trunks!
Thank you so much for your support. It means so much to us. Without it,
we'd be stinker than we already are! LOL! Dave tells me we can use the
following items: body wash, luffas, deodorant, q-tips, shampoo, AA
batteries, Frebeze, Hand sanitizers, razors and replacement blades, shaving
cream, OTC meds like pain killers, cold, flu and cough medicine, Benadryl,
Neosporin and Hydrocortisone, snacks like jerky, tuna, ramen noodles, Kraft
Mac and Cheese packets, Campbell's Soup Select in the small plastic bowels,
Frito's Stax, Pringles, granola bars, Twizzlers and M&Ms in the small
packets.
We are also are happy to accept school supplies for the Iraqi children in
the local schools. This is one of the signs of the progress we are making
here. When we took over this AO (area of operations) there was little to no
contact with the local schools. That is no longer true. Even here in Al
Anbar, where only 3% of the population voted in favor of the constitutional
referendum (the lowest support of any province in Iraq) we are making
progress. And so it continues, one day at a time, one step at a time, one
child and family at a time.
I am attaching four pictures for your review. The first is me with two of
my buddies Jim and Pat. The second is a group praying before moving out.
The third is a high view of one of our towns and the last is a gift in the
spirit of Halloween.
Thank you for all you do for us. May God bless you and our American
soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines. You're in my heart America, and I
shall always be,
Faithfully Yours,
Chaplain(Major)Douglas A. Etter
HHC 1-110 IN, 2/28 BCT
Camp Habbaniyah
APO, AE 09381 |
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TWO THOUSAND ONE, NINE ELEVEN (2001-911) | Close |
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Two thousand one, nine eleven
Three thousand plus arrive in heaven
As they pass through the gate,
Thousands more appear in wait
A bearded man with stovepipe hat
Steps forward saying, "Lets sit, lets chat"
They settle down in seats of clouds
A man named Martin shouts out proud
"I have a dream!" and once he did
The Newcomer said, "Your dream still lives."
Groups of soldiers in blue and gray
Others in khaki, and green then say
"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the
Maine"
The Newcomer said, "You died not in vain."
From a man on sticks one could hear
"The only thing we have to fear.
The Newcomer said, "We know the rest,
Trust us sir, we've passed that test."
"Courage doesn't hide in caves
You can't bury freedom, in a grave,"
The Newcomers had heard this voice before
A distinct Yankees twang from Hyannisport shores
A silence fell within the mist
Somehow the Newcomer knew that this
Meant time had come for her to say
What was in the hearts of the five thousand
plus that day
"Back on Earth, we wrote reports,
Watched our children play in sports
Worked our gardens, sang our songs
Went to church and clipped coupons
We smiled, we laughed,
! we cried, we fought
Unlike you, great we're not"
The tall man in the stovepipe hat
Stood and said, "Don't talk like that!
Look at your country, look and see
You died for freedom, just like me"
Then, before them all appeared a scene
Of rubbled streets and twisted beams
Death, destruction, smoke and dust
And people working just 'cause they must
Hauling ash, lifting stones,
Knee deep in hell, but not alone
"Look! Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman
Side by side helping their fellow man!"
So said Martin, as he watched the scene
"Even from nightmares, can be born a dream."
Down below three firemen raised
The colors high into ashen haze
The soldiers above had seen it before
On
Iwo Jima back in '45
The man on sticks studied everything closely
Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly
"I see pain, I see tears,
I see sorrow -- but I don't see fear."
"You left behind husbands and wives
Daughters and sons and so many lives
Are suffering now because of this wrong
But look very closely. You're not really gone.
All of those people, even those who've never met you
All of their lives, they'll never forget you
Don't you see what has happened?
Don't you see what you've done?
You've brought them together, together as one.
With that the man in the stovepipe hat said
"Take my hand," and from there he led
Three thousand plus heroes, Newcomers to heaven
On this day, two thousand one, nine eleven
Author UNKNOWN |
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