I am not a hero. I'm a soldier.
I have known heroes and was privileged to walk beside some very heroic people. To a man, they were always a bit surprised that people called them heroes.
I simply served the best way I knew how, based on the training and experience of my mentors. Many of them didn't realize what mentoring meant, had never heard the word. They were my superiors, and insisted on a rigid code of behavior and a firm reliance on discipline. They didn't like me much, or at least never showed it, but they were always fair about what they expected of me because they expected the same things of themselves and the other people that they supervised. We stood in the same mud and breathed the same dust. They were there with the rest of us.
I had good duty, and crappy duty, but the duty I remember best was the duty that was the crappiest. It was there I was the happiest. In the field with other soldiers, doing soldier-stuff. The absolute joy in a hot cup of bad coffee after a cold, wet, night. The honor and privilege of commanding American soldiers. When you tell a soldier to do something dangerous, and he looks you in the eye, says, "Yes, sir.", then picks up his rifle and walks off, trusting that you know what you are doing.
I'm not a hero, but I had the privilege of commanding heroes.
2 comments:
Amen, and thank you for your service.
I too thank you for your service. I have a friend who lives down the street. Wounded twice and once carried a wounded soldier 5 miles. I said to him you are a hero and he quickly corrected me that the heroes never came home.
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