Thank God for Soldiers

I have been taking public transportation to work for the past two weeks due to my car being out of commission. I catch the train at a little past seven with my dad and ride it to the University. From there I take a bus the rest of the way, arriving anywhere from an hour to half an hour before my scheduled work time. 

Something you should know, I am not a morning person. Occasionally I get a random desire to be up ridiculously early on a Saturday morning, but usually I prefer sleeping in until at least eight. That being said, I have to say that I am grateful I was up early today.

On the bus that I take from the train station there has been an older gentleman that recently has caught my attention. Normally I wouldn't have given him a second thought--I am a twenty five year old looking for prospects after all--but the other day I was looking at him and noticed the hat he was wearing. It was a "Vietnam Veteran" hat. This man had served our country.

I felt the sudden desire to tell this man "Thank you" for his service. I didn't take the opportunity to do it yesterday, but this morning I finally pushed aside my fears and did it.

I waited until the seat beside him was empty before moving from my place in the back of the bus and sitting beside him. 

"Excuse me," I said. He looked at me. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say thank you for your service."

He kind of shrugged it off at first in a "You don't have to thank me" kind of way. I remarked on how it takes courage to do something like that, and how two of my brothers served in the Army. He proceeded to tell me that he served with his brother also, however the two of them were on different ships.

Then he got serious, looked at me and said, "It wasn't fun."

The phrase was simple enough, yet it spoke volumes as I looked into his eyes. They were serious, sad, and haunted. 

"No," I replied. "I can't imagine it was."

After he left the bus, I recalled a poem that I read earlier this month for my Creative Writing class. I'd like to share it here (You can listen to the author read the poem here).

Facing It

By Yusef Komunyakaa

My black face fades,

hiding inside the black granite.

I said I wouldn't,

dammit: No tears.

I'm stone. I'm flesh.

My clouded reflection eyes me

like a bird of prey, the profile of night

slanted against morning. I turn

this way--the stone lets me go.

I turn that way--I'm inside

the Vietnam Veterans Memorial

again, depending on the light

to make a difference.

I go down the 58,022 names,

half-expecting to find

my own in letters like smoke.

I touch the name Andrew Johnson;

I see the booby trap's white flash.

Names shimmer on a woman's blouse

but when she walks away

the names stay on the wall.

Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's

wings cutting across my stare.

The sky. A plane in the sky.

A white vet's image floats

closer to me, then his pale eyes

look through mine. I'm a window.

He's lost his right arm

inside the stone. In the black mirror

a woman's trying to erase names:

No, she's brushing a boy's hair. 

I am truly grateful for the men and women who are willing to serve this country. I am grateful for their sacrifices. I am grateful for the men, women, and children who sacrifice the time of loved ones so that we can all benefit from their bravery. 

Thank God for Soldiers, and the ones they leave behind. 

To the soldiers that read this, and to their family and friends, I just want to say