War

War: a conflict carried on by force of arms, as between nations or between parties within a nation; warfare, as by land, sea, or air. (Source: Dictonary.com)

So war, it’s a tough subject. It’s different for every person. For someone like me, it’s more real. Like I stated in a previous blog, “A Day and Two Years to Remember” my dad was in the Army Reserves and fought in Iraq in the war against terrorism. He was there for six months, and every 159 days he was gone I woke up in a panic of worry. Every morning the first thought that went through my mind was: Is he alright? Did something happen while I was asleep? Did experience something horrible while I was sleeping soundlessly without a care or worry in another dimension? Every morning I would sigh with relief as the phone rang for my dad’s daily call. He would call before Crystal and I went to school and before he went to bed.
One morning I awoke with same thoughts as I’d always awoken to, but by the time I left for school I had not sighed in relief to hear the phone ring. He hadn’t called. My anxiety mounted all day. I watched the clock the entire day worry about whether the attendance office would call me down to find my mother in tears with terrible news. By the time school was out, I ran to my mother’s car to find that Dad had called an hour late. But then it happened again the next day, and the next, and the next. Finally my mom asked him why he was calling an hour late, and it turned out that Iraq had daylight saving a week before we did. That was the only big scare, for me, and I’m glad that he came home safely in mid-September. The transition from no dad to a full-time one was a little awkward, but it was a big weight off everyone’s shoulders, especially my mom’s.
So, I guess the reason I think the way I do about the whole war idea is that I experienced it first-hand. Many kids my age, and younger and older don’t know what it’s like to go through what I went through. I know there’s a lot of them out there, just not that many around me. Some kids have an uncle, or a cousin, or a brother (or aunt and sister!) who have done what my dad did, but it’s not as REAL when they leave YOUR home and don’t call YOUR phone in the morning. I know what it’s like to go through not having my father there for Christmas or my birthday. My mom didn’t even celebrate her anniversary with my dad for ten or so years (because each year he’d have drill that weekend).
So I say bring our men and women home where they belong. I think we’ve stuck our foot in foreign affairs for eight years too long. They are big boys and girls over there, and they don’t want us there as much as those of us here don’t want our men and women there fighting. It’s not our war to fight, it never has been. You can fight the War on Terror, if you don’t know who the terrorist is. YOU CAN’T IDENTIFY A TERRORIST BY LOOKING AT HIM!!! Animal right’s activists (like the ones that have happened here in my own town) who set animals free from testing plants and trash their computers are considered “terrorist” for doing I think is completely rational.
But, that is beside the point. America, I think it is time to bring our men and women home. Iraq can live without us; my dad WORKED with training their men one-on-one and says that all the need is the right training and knowledge. WE’VE BEEN THERE FOR EIGHT YEARS NOW! I think they’re good. And all the nonsense with Afghanistan (that I honestly have no clue why it’s going on, I haven’t stayed updated in the current events lately) is probably just a COMPLETE overreaction.
It pains me to know there’s hundred’s of kids out there right now, dealing with what I went through. It’s practically a form of torture! So, America, let’s bring our men and women home safely.