The War Becomes Personal

I sat myself on the sofa. The day had been busy, appointments kept, promises fulfilled, and commitments to help the less fortunate were gathered in. I fired up the Mac in preference to the TV.

The PBS program Frontline was on his list of shows to view. The program this day was Obama’s War, a documentary of the current fighting in Afghanistan. It was probably less than five minutes into the show when the images of shock appeared.

“War,” said General Sherman, “is hell.” It’s worse than that. But war for the vast majority of us is so impersonal. “Eight Americans were killed in combat operations in Afghanistan today ....” reports the news anchor. Funny how little emotion the number “eight” engenders. Maybe that’s why so many wars are fought. As long as I’m sitting here and the war’s over there and it’s “eight” that are killed. Well, I’m here and the soldiers are there; and I don’t know anyone named “eight.”

There, on my Mac, the Marines of the 2nd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force out of Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, on July 2nd, were firing their automatic weapons into a line of trees off into the distance, the point from which they were receiving fire. Then suddenly, there on the ground, lay Lance Corporal Charles “Seth” Sharp, a twenty year old whose home was ten miles from the sofa on which I sat, with a hole in his neck from the projectile that tore him apart.

I watched his buddies carry him away from the front back toward the rear, his blood staining his BDU. I heard the commentator say, “Lance Corporal Sharp did not make it.”

Strange, I have no empathy with “eight.” But I am emotionally ripped asunder when I know one of those “eight” is “Seth Sharp. Now the war is personal.

I remember his funeral. They turned out in thousands to line the local highways when Seth came home under the canopy of the flag to whose allegiance he served. For hours they came to express sympathy to his family who shook every single hand.

I’m feeling a bit frustrated and angry now. Major John Morris, a Chaplain during the fighting in Iraq, said on Speaking of Faith. “You can’t kill and idea with a bullet.” It seems to me what we’re up against in these wars is a conflict of ideas, and the only way to defeat an idea is a better idea.

Excuse the rant, but I’m a little disturbed now. The war has once again been made personal. Perhaps we would have less wars if they were personal to those who vote to fund them. Maybe a qualification for voting for war should be to have once stood in the line of fire and felt the warm blood of your buddy splatter on you to the point your fear became so great you pissed your pants.

Comments

[Beach Walkin]

Thank you for writing this post.

[MMP]

i'll second that