Formula Jr
11-07-2004, 02:56 PM
Baghdad, Iraq
November 6, 2004
To my friends,
A year has passed since I left on what has become one of the greatest adventures of my life. Today you are gathered to honor the people who have gone ahead of us on the trail and those who sit before you now. I write this letter to you in my Baghdad hooch after much introspection as to how my experiences have effected me over the course of my absence. I’ll do my best to avoid patronizing or condescending while imparting my reflections on what this Veteran’s Day means to me, and hopefully what it will mean to you.
I know that many of you do not agree with the war we are waging against an unseen enemy, and that’s okay. Each man and woman is entitled to his or her opinion; that’s what makes our country so great. Most of you know that as a teacher I have never discriminated against another person for voicing an opinion that comes from the heart and is truly his or her own, not something handed down and adopted from outside influences. I would only hope that you carried that same impartiality in your hearts when thinking about the people who perform these daily sacrifices in order to maintain your freedom and the freedom of the Iraqi people. It’s a frightening job, but also one of the most rewarding I personally have ever undertook. I have seen the best and worst come out of people under some of the most stressful circumstances imaginable, and am still amazed by their desire to carry on. We do it because we love our families, our friends and country. We perform our jobs in the hopes that by carrying out our missions successfully, future generations will never have to endure these hardships or face these trials. It’s important for all of you to under stand what some of these hardships really are.
From time to time I look at the clock and realize how far away from you all I really am, and I feel such sadness and loneliness in my heart. Last month I came home on leave and visited with some of you. When I returned to Iraq I felt regret deep down, not for having to come back, but wondering what kind of impression I had left. I keep asking myself, “Have I done enough? Do they understand how much they mean to me? Will their memory of me be happy or sad?” One of my greatest fears in life is to end up being a failure as a teacher, a husband, and a father. Only time will tell I guess. It just feels like I left a lot of things undone and unsaid. I have always had a hard time knowing whether or not what I have done is right and good for the people who have come to be part of my life. I love those people with all my heart, but I’m never sure it gets across.
While the prospect of death at the hand of an enemy is definitely a concern, soldiers learn to accept that as part of the job; something that ultimately is not in our control. I could talk about all the deprivation and hardship we shoulder in the performance of our duties, but they pale in comparison to what really concerns us. Our real fears come from the uncertainty of what is happening to those who are left behind. I think many veterans will agree with that. Death comes quickly and often without warning, and we pray that those we love are going to be all right in that event. This is the real sacrifice that people in the military make: volunteering themselves to be taken from the ones they love in order to help another people experience life in peace. It’s one of the seven values taught in the military that I wish more people in America would learn: Selfless Service. That is the sacrifice you should honor on Veteran’s day.
Many may argue, “Well they signed up for it, they brought it upon themselves.” I would ask them to consider what our country would be like if no one volunteered to take a stand against oppression. What would the world be like? Don’t those people deserve a little credit, a simple thank you at least? While I waited at the airport in Seattle, both coming home and returning to Iraq, I saw many scornful stares, frowns, and people avoiding making eye contact with me. That caused a lot of pain in my heart. I thought to myself, “All they see is a uniform, a symbol. They don’t see that there’s a living, feeling human being underneath.” The military may demand uniformity in many things, but it doesn’t take away a person’s basic humanity. A soldier still has emotion. A soldier can still feel pain, grief and joy.
I lost a comrade in the first few months of being in Iraq, a medic whom I talked to occasionally in the chow hall or at the aid station when he gave me an IV for dehydration. In fact, the last time I saw him was when he ran a line into me. We were joking around with each other the whole time, but I always knew Jeff was a caring person who’d do anything to take care of somebody. The next day he was gone. He replaced a gunner in a Humvee when the crew came up short for a mission. It wasn’t his job, but he knew it needed to be done. A piece of shrapnel from a roadside bomb hit him in the head and he bled out in the arms of the men in his truck that were medics as well; they couldn’t do a thing for him. We all mourned his loss for many days, and took comfort in the knowledge that he didn’t suffer. The aid station is named in his memory. Jeff Shaver was a good man, and I’ll honor his memory for the rest of my life.
Veteran’s Day has come to mean something very different to me now. It will be a time for remembering my friends, living and dead, who served by my side. It would be my wish that the students and staff of PHS would see this Veteran’s Day as not just a free day off from school. Trust me friends: the day isn’t free. A lot of good people bought it for you. They sacrificed themselves hoping that what they did would better humanity without asking for memorials or parades. They merely hoped someone, somewhere, would remember.
So take some time this week to thank a few people for what they’ve done. Lay some flowers on a grave at a cemetery or a statue. Think about the things you have, and why you have them. It takes personal courage to go against what some may think as unpopular, but I will be truly grateful if you do.
I miss you all terribly, and look forward to the day when we’re together again. I’ll see you in the Spring.
Sincerely,
Corporal Brent Nice
November 6, 2004
To my friends,
A year has passed since I left on what has become one of the greatest adventures of my life. Today you are gathered to honor the people who have gone ahead of us on the trail and those who sit before you now. I write this letter to you in my Baghdad hooch after much introspection as to how my experiences have effected me over the course of my absence. I’ll do my best to avoid patronizing or condescending while imparting my reflections on what this Veteran’s Day means to me, and hopefully what it will mean to you.
I know that many of you do not agree with the war we are waging against an unseen enemy, and that’s okay. Each man and woman is entitled to his or her opinion; that’s what makes our country so great. Most of you know that as a teacher I have never discriminated against another person for voicing an opinion that comes from the heart and is truly his or her own, not something handed down and adopted from outside influences. I would only hope that you carried that same impartiality in your hearts when thinking about the people who perform these daily sacrifices in order to maintain your freedom and the freedom of the Iraqi people. It’s a frightening job, but also one of the most rewarding I personally have ever undertook. I have seen the best and worst come out of people under some of the most stressful circumstances imaginable, and am still amazed by their desire to carry on. We do it because we love our families, our friends and country. We perform our jobs in the hopes that by carrying out our missions successfully, future generations will never have to endure these hardships or face these trials. It’s important for all of you to under stand what some of these hardships really are.
From time to time I look at the clock and realize how far away from you all I really am, and I feel such sadness and loneliness in my heart. Last month I came home on leave and visited with some of you. When I returned to Iraq I felt regret deep down, not for having to come back, but wondering what kind of impression I had left. I keep asking myself, “Have I done enough? Do they understand how much they mean to me? Will their memory of me be happy or sad?” One of my greatest fears in life is to end up being a failure as a teacher, a husband, and a father. Only time will tell I guess. It just feels like I left a lot of things undone and unsaid. I have always had a hard time knowing whether or not what I have done is right and good for the people who have come to be part of my life. I love those people with all my heart, but I’m never sure it gets across.
While the prospect of death at the hand of an enemy is definitely a concern, soldiers learn to accept that as part of the job; something that ultimately is not in our control. I could talk about all the deprivation and hardship we shoulder in the performance of our duties, but they pale in comparison to what really concerns us. Our real fears come from the uncertainty of what is happening to those who are left behind. I think many veterans will agree with that. Death comes quickly and often without warning, and we pray that those we love are going to be all right in that event. This is the real sacrifice that people in the military make: volunteering themselves to be taken from the ones they love in order to help another people experience life in peace. It’s one of the seven values taught in the military that I wish more people in America would learn: Selfless Service. That is the sacrifice you should honor on Veteran’s day.
Many may argue, “Well they signed up for it, they brought it upon themselves.” I would ask them to consider what our country would be like if no one volunteered to take a stand against oppression. What would the world be like? Don’t those people deserve a little credit, a simple thank you at least? While I waited at the airport in Seattle, both coming home and returning to Iraq, I saw many scornful stares, frowns, and people avoiding making eye contact with me. That caused a lot of pain in my heart. I thought to myself, “All they see is a uniform, a symbol. They don’t see that there’s a living, feeling human being underneath.” The military may demand uniformity in many things, but it doesn’t take away a person’s basic humanity. A soldier still has emotion. A soldier can still feel pain, grief and joy.
I lost a comrade in the first few months of being in Iraq, a medic whom I talked to occasionally in the chow hall or at the aid station when he gave me an IV for dehydration. In fact, the last time I saw him was when he ran a line into me. We were joking around with each other the whole time, but I always knew Jeff was a caring person who’d do anything to take care of somebody. The next day he was gone. He replaced a gunner in a Humvee when the crew came up short for a mission. It wasn’t his job, but he knew it needed to be done. A piece of shrapnel from a roadside bomb hit him in the head and he bled out in the arms of the men in his truck that were medics as well; they couldn’t do a thing for him. We all mourned his loss for many days, and took comfort in the knowledge that he didn’t suffer. The aid station is named in his memory. Jeff Shaver was a good man, and I’ll honor his memory for the rest of my life.
Veteran’s Day has come to mean something very different to me now. It will be a time for remembering my friends, living and dead, who served by my side. It would be my wish that the students and staff of PHS would see this Veteran’s Day as not just a free day off from school. Trust me friends: the day isn’t free. A lot of good people bought it for you. They sacrificed themselves hoping that what they did would better humanity without asking for memorials or parades. They merely hoped someone, somewhere, would remember.
So take some time this week to thank a few people for what they’ve done. Lay some flowers on a grave at a cemetery or a statue. Think about the things you have, and why you have them. It takes personal courage to go against what some may think as unpopular, but I will be truly grateful if you do.
I miss you all terribly, and look forward to the day when we’re together again. I’ll see you in the Spring.
Sincerely,
Corporal Brent Nice