12 Marines died today (could be more) in Afghanistan. I posted this on my personal Facebook page, and I’m posting it here this evening instead of my usual TILT…
I’m hearing that Marines were killed today. That means some random man left his neighborhood on a suburban street or drove down a dirt road through a corn field. He took the subway or a bus through a city. He had friends, a mother. He liked chocolate cake and had a tattoo. His hair didn’t always do quite right, and that one spot on his beard never filled in like he wished it would. He wasn’t that good at folding socks, but he was great at throwing his yellow and green football. He didn’t like to dance, but he would to be close to his girl and make her smile. He tried his best to do a good job at work, and he cut the grass with a push mower.
I imagine these things when I hear that a Marine was killed in Afghanistan. An ordinary guy willing to leave those things behind and go off to training, run a lot, get yelled at, and board a plane headed straight into absolute chaos. I imagine these things when I think there are guys now here at home, having already been in horrible places, having experienced the loss of their brothers, and having dealt with the fact that their time to be there and help has passed.
My heart is heavy.
DO NOT COMMENT any political bullshit on my post. Just pray for those guys with me. Think of them. Pray that they have moments of reassurance, that their confidence remains high, that they have the fortitude to keep going, and they maintain the keen senses they need to survive and come home. Pray for their families who are unsure of their whereabouts or condition.
God bless our Marines. God bless all our military men and women. Our acknowledgement of and gratitude for your service seems so small.
Amanda Herring, Writer 