High Hopes

“It is well that war is so terrible, lest we grow too fond of it.” (General R.E. Lee)

I’m thankful my share of this war has been very light so far. But as Soldiers in a combat zone, we literally have to put on the full armor every day and be prepared mentally and physically to do combat if necessary. Still, we earnestly pray, and I know that you do too, that we be spared the attacks of the evil ones. We also pray for peace and freedom for this land that has never known peace or freedom. (awe)

“Freedom has a scent like the top of a newborn baby’s head.
The songs are in your eyes, I see them when you smile.
I’ve seen enough, I’m not giving up on a miracle drug.” (bono)

A few weeks ago, as I was leaving the LSA (life support area), I was surprised to see a little guy coming onto the camp with one of our interpreters. In an instant it occurred to me that it had been more than a month since I had even seen a child. I stood at the gate and watched him as he approached. He noticed my stare and stepped up and held out his little hand. His uncle, the interpreter, introduced him as Hussein (or Muhammed after his grandfather). I shook his hand and greeted his smiling face with, “Marhabba”.

Have you ever been anyplace where there were no children around? Some of you might long for such peace but I can tell you that it’s a darker world without children around. I got an e-mail the other day from a buddy (a college room mate) who I’ve not talked to in over twenty years. He told me he has five daughters. Can you imagine living in a house with six women? You’d have to make an appointment to use the bathroom. I’ll bet he’d like a few weeks without kids.

But, for most people, the world is warmed by both the heat of the sun and the innocent, pure love of their children. As this little guy shook my hand, I was reminded of something very special and missing from my life. I decided that nothing I had to do that morning was as important as getting to know this little fellow. And it was Sunday.

His uncle told me that Hussein is nine years old (he’s the size of a typical six year old American kid) and lives with his grand parents and some neighbors. Both of his parents, older brother and baby sister were killed when their house was rocketed by insurgents last November. It might have been a case of mistaken identity, but it’s the price many Iraqi patriots pay for assisting the coalition. None of that matters to Hussein. His family is gone; forever.

The kid barely survived the attack and now bears a scar on his belly from below his navel to just under his chin where the doctors had to repair his abdomen to save his life. He also has a steel rod (that was improperly placed) in his left arm and he is blind in his left eye, a condition that could be corrected by technology in the US. Still, he is care free and loves to play, just like any other kid. His attitude and demeanor show no signs of his horrific ordeal.

We had a great time playing soccer and goofing around on the computer. He’s been back a couple of times since and each time he visits he raises my spirits greatly. He just hangs out at the medic station and we are all blessed by his company.

One day Hussein will be a man and I’m sure the light in his eyes will be dimmed by this harsh land. But I have high hopes that when he is older his weary eyes will stray to the horizon and not down a road we’ve been so many times. My prayer is that this great kid (and all the sons and daughters of this country) will, in their lifetime, know the peace we take for granted. The peace we've known in our lifetimes when...

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river
Forever and ever
(D. Gilmour)