Apr 18 2006
Army Green Sh*t on My Ass
“Do I have green sh*t on my ass?” asked a lady in bright white pants.
I was right behind her in the connecting tube from the gate to the plane. Is that what they are called?
I looked at her posterior. For the first time. Only because she obviously was in need.
“No, but you have a blue thread on your leg.” I wasn’t pulling said appendage. A curled blue thread clung just below her right butt cheek.
“Oh, well let’s get that off there,” she said.
Let’s? No, I’ll leave that to you.
She picked it off and then explained that a dog had knocked her down in the grass, and she thought her pants might be sporting a stain.
“No problem. I really hadn’t looked at it until you asked,” I said.
She ended up seated in front of me, next to a U.S. Army soldier she talked to the entire flight. He kept fiddling with his headphones as if preparing to don them, but could not seem to find an opportune lull in the conversation. He had a chance when she went to the lavatory, but instead kept his ears available to his new friend.
Turns out the soldier got out of the military in 1992 and has two grown kids, one about to enter college. He got picked to “come on back now, ya hear?” so that Uncle Sam has ample disposable heroes in Iraq.
I found out on the descent that the young man of 24 sitting next to me had been called back after only a two year break. He has a child about a year younger than Ben, and said he sure misses his family. Most of us can only imagine the pit that must put in one’s stomach.
White Pants and I thanked them for serving our country, then asked that they not get shot. The soldier sitting next to her just laughed politely when she cracked wise on why the hell we are over there in the first place. I got the feeling that he wondered the same thing, but would not dare voice it aloud. Sometimes a laugh implies complicity. The younger man next to me, perhaps not as embittered in his youth, did not react.
At least four other people sitting near us chimed in with their thanks. I thought of the much different welcome the Vietnam veterans received less than 40 years ago. Maybe White Pants brought my attention to something a little deeper than her ass.
Please, forget I just typed that.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that there’s a big difference between supporting the troops and supporting those who send ‘em off.
A bit of a sticky wicket, that.
Bones
Enjoy!
Professor - I was going to consider that comment spam until I followed the link. Glad to see another fellow Simon of Space reader. At least, I think that’s you. Readers, especially sci-fi fans, you might take a look at his site. It is designed to be educational for kids, but is done as a story.
Simon - Indeed, there is. I wanted to hug the guys because they are getting shot at for me. Maybe I should rephrase that. Instead of me. I question how directly the Iraq War is actually for any American.
Yep, Simon’s right…. there’s a difference in supporting our military men and women, and supporting the person that put them in harms way.
My prayers every night include the former.
I feel a tug on my heartstrings anytime I meet a soldier that has been or will be going overseas. And personally, I think that, while Simon is correct that there is a big difference in supporting our troops and supporting the ones who have sent them off, I must say, they all need our prayers, particularly the latter. We know our soldiers are being blessed. Only God knows about the politicians, the terrorists and the rest of the world’s criminals.
One of my fondest similar memories comes from a group of 4 soldiers, when I was at job training in LA. It was a Saturday, and a group of us had loaded into our “minivan” for a drive up PCH. And yes, we looked just as cool as you might suspect as we weaved in and out of Ferrari’s, Porsche’s, and various BMW’s and Mercedes. We stopped to eat in Malibu, and sat next to some soldiers that were just about to have to go back over to Iraq. As we sat there, my feelings ran the full gamut, with perhaps the strongest being guilt. There we were, out goofing off in civilian clothes yucking it up on our expense accounts, and there they were in their green fatigues getting ready to go dodge some more bullets.
Their ticket came before ours, and I snatched it from the table and told them to get lost, and thanked them for their service.
The gratitude they expressed, and how it made us feel was better than anything else we did that day. I couldn’t keep from having a slightly tainted view of the “Walk of Fame” in Hollywood, which we went to see later that afternoon. After all, who are the REAL stars?
I would hope that everyone would look for an opportunity to do something nice for a soldier when they get a chance. I’m looking for me next one.
All - Yes, seeing soldiers is moving, because most of us usually only see them on TV or some other form of media. It definitely makes me feel like what I’m doing is trivial.