An Open Letter

An open letter to our country's Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen, and especially to my nephew, Lt. Robert L. Faith, Jr., USAF.

What can I say? Ladies, Gentlemen, and genuine Hell-Raisers, I salute you. I’m not a gifted writer. Please accept my humble efforts as proof that I care.

Some of you were committed to enlistment contracts and already in uniform before 9/11. To you I say: Thank you for not running and hiding. Some of you, like my nephew Robbie, still had a choice when it became clear that you were signing up to fight. An extra thank you to you.

Robbie, you’ll never know how proud you made me the night in October of 2001 when we discussed how the world had changed and you made it clear that you’re plans hadn’t changed in the least. It scares the Hell out me knowing that the little boy I taught to tiptoe up on baby rabbits (You probably don’t remember, but I do.) is now in uniform and has a damned good chance of ending up in a war zone before the dust settles. Be safe, please.

I know what Vietnam cost those of us who went there and did what our country asked of us. Three boys men from my little home town didn’t come home. My cousin, Scott Parker, survived numerous firefights, then came home to die of lung cancer caused by four packs of cigarettes per day. His name isn’t on The Wall, but it should be. In some cases, mine included, worse harm was done back home by John Kerry and his ilk than anything the war threw at us. I spent most of my time in country pushing papers, dodged a little shrapnel a few times, and came home physically intact; my marriage to a woman I still love dearly took mortal wounds while I was gone. Some people come home from a war with scars on their bodies; some of us came home with scars on our souls.

There’s nothing I can do for those of your generation who will die from bullet wounds and shrapnel. I pray that number won’t be any bigger than it has to be. Please know and believe that if I could trade places with you I would. I’ll do everything I can, with this letter, my prayers, and my small presence on the web, to minimize the emotional scars I know some of you will come home with. Please, ignore the Michael Moores and the latter-day John Kerrys of the world. They aren’t fit to shine your shoes. Know that most of your nation appreciates you and prays for you.

What else is there to say? More gifted writers might think of something, but I can’t. I salute you. You’re in my prayers. THANK YOU.

Bill Faith