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Roy Emerson
I wish I was shoveling snow!
It must sound odd to hear, but we heard about all the harsh winter weather hitting the States, and I actually thought to myself-“I
wish I was shoveling snow.” I think back to the simple things back home-things that make home that “one”
place. The place where you can spend the day in your old-holey sweats, complaining about yet another thing that needs to be
done that will have to wait-because there never seems to be enough time. I know all of you know what I mean! Home is that
place where you can make it to the restroom and back in the black of night, not making a sound because you know EXACTLY where
to walk to avoid that creaking sound that NEVER fails to wake either the dog or the wife. It is the place that even in the
worst of times is the best of places-where having your sentences completed is comforting, if not alarming. (I often wonder
HOW women do that.) Where NOT hearing the sound of children making WAY too much noise is the sign of a problem rather than
contentment. What I wouldn’t give to be shoveling snow.
You wake up in this place; so far from “home” one can not even begin to explain it. Your weapon is your mistress,
your bodyguard-your confidante. Where using the restroom in the middle night means dressing and walking into the cold of the
night. This place is often lacking in the “normal” sounds all of us take for granted-the business that is everyday
life for us. Where we are I hear no children laughing, no towns-people gossiping-just the sounds of the complicated birth
of a Nation-still centuries behind the outside world, recovering from so much oppression-and suffering from what might be
called the pains of “realization.”
But even among the pains of “becoming,” you see signs of the possibilities. It isn’t seen in the grand ways
that the media would love to speak of, but, rather, in the small seemingly mundane things. Every time a school is built, or
a clinic opens, or a small piece of road finally exists…..there is hope. Every time a child begins to learn-to read-to
grow…there is hope. The birth of a nation is a difficult process-it is not to be left to those with weak constitutions,
growing pains are long and often violent-but left to those who believe, they will pass. This process of becoming is not a
one time event, it is a slow and constant dedication to the principles a nation holds dearest. Patriotism, whether for we
Americans or the Afghans, as Adlai Stevenson said “ is not short frenzied, outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and
steady dedication of a lifetime."
It is often easy to be swayed by the media or the opinions of politicians on the “right” or “wrong”
of our actions here. As Americans it is often difficult to understand another nation-so culturally different-but some one
once stated "He is a poor patriot whose patriotism does not enable him to understand how all men everywhere feel about their
altars and their hearthstones, their flag and their fatherland." I remind of myself of this often. We must respect their culture,
their traditions and the like. Of course I am not saying that we must agree with them-but we must respect them. With that
said, I am not of a belief that if such traditions come at the direct expense of the liberty of another-that we should not
try to change it. It is more about “how” we try to change it-with respect and without condemnation. There isn’t
too much diplomacy with a bullet! But what one sees here is a delicate balance of the two-with commanders and soldiers working
with communities in an attempt to foster understanding and trust. It is a remarkable thing, for a soldier to utilize diplomacy
without weapons. It happens here daily-it is an incredible process to bear witness to.
So little, by little progress is made-in the small human gestures that never make to the news. Are we “winning this
war?” I can’t answer that but, when I look at the children-and hope for their futures I realize that they hold
the key. For no matter what we accomplish here-whether it is we soldiers, or the Afghan elders-it is through THESE children
that these principles of liberty take root, and grow-strong, where the true patriots of this country will be found. Peace
can not be dictated-nor won by the sword-what we can do here is give them the environment that enables peace to grow-but the
choice is theirs.
There is snow on the mountains now, we are aware that soon we will be knee deep in it ourselves. If our FOB didn't resemble
a refugee camp, it would be truly a remarkable landscape. Amazing how deceptive the beauty of a landscape can be-one minute
looking at the mountains, the next fending off an ambush. Talk about dichotomy-that such violence can live in a place truly
so naturally beautiful seems unthinkable. We are all preparing for the full onset of winter-it really is quite the process
to “winterize” a unit. I am still amazed that we live in tents, with central heating (the Army’s version!)
We have pulled out the cold-weather/wet-weather boots, the socks have gotten thicker, and the nights longer. We pray that
those who seek to destroy what we and Afghans seek to build are taking a winter holiday-no one likes the cold.
So we start the second half of our tour here-hoping for far fewer killed and injured, missing our families more each day.
It is as important as always that you all know how much your support means to all of us here-the kindness and compassion shown
by all of you is what allows us to continue. And we truly want you to know that although we in fact stand in harms’
way for our country, it is no greater an achievement than to LIVE by her principles. All of you who have done so much truly
depict those principles-that is our greatest gift to the world. Thank you for everything-every thought-every prayer. Know
that we carry you with us-to lift us when things are darkest. And the next time you shovel snow-or attempt to make it to the
restroom in the middle-of-the-night, I want you to stop, just for a moment, and smile.
God Bless-
1 LT. Roy Emerson
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