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Cindy Sheehan, I May Have Your Answer

by Pete Fisher

All the media fuss. All the attention. The Liberals taking blatant advantage of a grieving mother to further their hateful agenda against the President. Why? A nation divided cannot stand, nor can it thrive when we question what price we pay for the freedoms we have.

I was 17 years old and in the military, as a young and patriotic man who thought nothing of defending my right to speak as I pleased and keep sacred the memories of drive-in movies and long hair. I defended my right to move as I wished and to drive what I could afford. I defended the right to cross state lines as I pleased with no paperwork to give to the authorities at the border.

My first training began in the Philippines where we stayed in a Quonset hut in the heavy humid jungles while learning to survive on nothing. I spent time in the Persian Gulf area, in Africa, Asia, and other places. Often making my 450-dollar a month salary stretch so wide I could make the eagle on the dollar scream for mercy. I saw things and did things no other 17-year-old boy from my area could.

And I did this as a free choice enlistee for 6 years, no one forced me to join or place my life on the line for my nation and the people I endeavored to protect. I did so willingly and without regret. I faced danger daily in many situations and saw my companions disappear from time to time as they also protected their nation. None of them feared the death of a hero, and none if they could be asked today would regret their sacrifice. I know, I lived with these men and I ate with them. We talked and joked, we wrestled and played cards, we all ate the same food as we hashed over the lives we left behind.

We knew each other better than most of our families did. Things were discussed among us that none of us would dare share with anyone else who had not endured what we endured. We comforted people who had been displaced by Abu Saif, and Communist Guerillas. We heard their stories of horror as they held a daughter captive by knife or gun and demanded a "voluntary" donation to their cause. We saw the devastation together that terror wrought upon the lives and souls of other human beings. Stories that chilled us to the core then, and still do today.

We felt the warmth of their hugs when we scared the boogie men away, and we felt their graciousness when we were bought into their homes and fed with a feast they had gathered from among the villagers as a whole because no one family could ever afford a gala like we witnessed many times. We slept in the only bed in the house because the heartfelt gratitude of those we liberated would allow nothing more than the best they had, even if it was the worst we ever had.

We saw dictators displaced where freedoms were taken away. We saw hope spring forth in hearts that never thought they would see a life worth living again in their time. We saw freedoms that some had never dreamed of being laid at the feet of the oppressed and broken hearted. And with every tittle of laughter, every tear shed from relief, we knew what we had been born for. We had a purpose that many covet and never see. We were nothing more than neighborhood kids when we left the warmth of our homes and the culture we knew to fight a battle some us never understood when we walked on strange soil and fought for those who could not fight for themselves. We were heroes to these people who never saw a television or had more to eat than they could stand. We fought to save little girls from becoming prostitutes out of survival and to open a new and wonderful world to those who lived with only violence and death.

And some of us never knew at times if we wanted to return home or not, because there we were somebody. Important, appreciated, and doted upon as real men. We knew we would not be so when we returned home, we would only be those who did not belong anymore. We have lived with violent nightmares and battled with our purposes, but the one thing that brings us back is what we did. Not only for our nation, but also for our fellow man.

Your son Cindy, he fought with honor and dignity. He fought that you and others if they so chose could protest a sitting president near his own house. He fought to protect these values against a madman who paid terrorists and funded those who desired to take this lifestyle away from us all. He took the devil from his seat and saved countless lives that Saddam would have taken as he had in the past. He fought, and if he was like my friends, he fought well. And he was honored to do so. My bet is that he died filled with a purpose he never had and with a satisfaction of life few ever know. He saw the oppressed go free. He felt the warmth of their newfound life. He saw the sparkle of hope in their eyes as they gazed at him and cried.

He enlisted for this purpose and he died for this purpose. I am sure he would prefer to be honored as a hero than to be written up in the media as a poor helpless victim of a political entity.

I am sure he walked through the Pearly Gates and heard a voice say to him ‘Well done my good and faithful servant". Because what better love has a man than this, to give his life for another? And though you grieve, and America understands the pain and agony of a son lost, you are not alone, and through the history of this nation many mothers asked the same question. Why did their son die saving some black slaves? Why did their son die because of a war in Europe that did not concern us? Why did their son die in what their mothers considered a useless war? No war makes sense to a parent who lost their son, but at least wonder what that war meant to your son and all he stood for. He did the right thing Cindy, and if you could ask him now he would say the same thing.

He delivered the oppressed to freedom, he freed the prisoners, he brought faith and hope to those who had none. He comforted those who were hurting and he sacrificed his life to keep the freedoms you now exercise.

Honor your son not with protesting the war or the president he made an oath to follow. Honor him by standing strong as he stood strong, and by holding him up in the eyes of this nation as the hero he is. Not by abusing the freedoms he lovingly fought to protect. Let not the Liberals use your plight to gain in their agenda, but use your plight to help others understand that your son fought and he died for them. He made a sacrifice unrivaled by those who never served. I know my mother would have grieved had I not come back to her, but she would never have dishonored my service by making me look like an innocent victim.

God bless you Cindy, but it’s time to go home now.


Pete Fisher Column Index

Pete Fisher is a concerned citizen in the Chicago area who has written several articles on the economy, educational system, politics, and religion. He has been featured on several sites such as RenewAmerica.us, TheRant.us, MichNews.com, Blessedcause.com, Peoplepolitical.org, Chronwatch.com and has been circulated on various other sites worldwide. He is a 6 year veteran of the Armed Forces.

Pete can be contacted at: pfisher2005@aol.com