Coffee sloshes from my cup onto my bag; my patrol cap is in my hand, not on my head as it should be.
I’m a wreck. A woman I don’t know, a bit older than me, smiles. She looks as if she’s about to say, “Thank you for your service,” to which I’m never sure how to respond.
Six months ago I was in Baghdad, serving as operations chief of the Gulf Region District of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Our unit oversees infrastructure rebuilding — a beautiful and expensive endeavor managing construction of schools, roads, hospitals and other big-ticket items. I was someone else six months ago, in charge of force protection, intelligence, security and combat movement across Iraq.
Then my older son, Nicholas, a charismatic and passionate 21-year-old in his third year of college, shot himself during my last week in theater.
Our unit suffered five fatalities during our year in Iraq. One individual was killed by a sniper’s single shot to the head. One person, also named Nicholas, was lost to a vehicle-borne suicide bomb. During my tenure, I learned how to receive such calls and to inform our commander. I had to be direct and calm and succinctly present the information he needed. Remaining professional during these events was difficult, especially because I was out of practice...."
(Jodi Jones Smith)
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"Truth goes through three stages. First it is ridiculed. Then it is violently opposed. Finally, it is accepted as self-evident."
1 comment:
Jodi, you touch my heart today. Instead of thank you please accept my awe at your courage and strength.
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