Have you ever read something so vile, so disgusting, it simply reduces you to tears? Have you ever read something that you knew it would be pointless to respond to, because you know the sentiment is so twisted and evil it is immune to any and all logic, yet every fiber of your being forces you to, even though you should be writing a paper for school (write my fucking paper, Kos)?
I have just run into something like that, and I am going to respond, because I have no choice.
The statement I read came from a commenter on Hugh Hewitt's blog. It is attached to the complimentary piece written about Jim Webb and his excellent performance on MTP. Here is what is currently passing for dialouge on that site, courtesy of commenter josh:
"How can Webb be a member of a party that would smile if his son came home in a coffin? How can Webb be a member of a party that roots for the would be killers of his son?"
The comment has no URL, so the link takes you to the full webpage. This is the fifth comment.
Now most of you would just dismiss this as what it is, that hate-filled spewings of a wingnut whose I.Q. is smaller than his shoe size. Nothing to get in a bunch over.
Yet today, for some reason, this really hit me. It hit me because I am a veteran of this misguided Iraq war and a Democrat, and I certainly do not smile when our soldiers come home in wooden boxes.
I wish I could meet josh and ask him if he can name even one person who died in OIF. My guess is he'd answer no. I, however, can name one person who died in OIF.
His name is Cpl William I. Salazar
Now, I do not know Cpl Salazar, and I'm beginning to think more and more that is to my detriment. I have been hesitant to use his name here because of that fact. I have been afraid to use his name to make some cheap point on a blog because I did not want to dishonor him. Today I feel I will do him the honor that people like josh cannot.
Cpl Salazar attached to my unit while I was in my second tour in Iraq. It was made clear to him that he would be a mid-tour replacement for a Marine whose time in the Corps was about to be up.
He was ok with that. He signed up after "...outrage over the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks ignited a flame under him. A few months after the attacks, the pudgy graphic designer chose to become a chiseled, disciplined Marine."
So he came, and he and I happened to be on Al Asad at the same time he arrived in country. This was sometime in May of 2004. My then-sergeant introduced us, and we talked for about twenty minutes. He was a Cpl and a videographer, same as me. I remember him as being very focused. He loved being a Marine and he was proud to be serving his country in a time of war. He was so much more gung-ho than I that he shamed me a little. Still, I sensed a deep intelligence to him, and a certitude in him told me he believed in what he was doing. I knew he was a fine Marine and would do his job with aplomb.
The next day he went out to Al Qaim, just east of the Syrian border in the Al Anbar province. I went back to Haditha and never saw him again.
I do not know Cpl Salzar, even though I met him once. He fell victim to a suicide car bomb on October 15th, 2004, less than a month after I was back in the States. That is also my little brother's birthday. I will not forget it.
I will also never forget what his mother looked like as the Marine serving funeral duty handed her that folded flag. She crumpled in on herself, imploding because there was a whole in her that oceans of time will not ever be able to fill. She shook her head, denying a truth so horrible that we all had a hard time accepting. I had to videotape the whole proceeding. One of too many memorial services I had to tape.
How dare you, josh, whoever you are. How dare you suggest that I smile if one of my brothers comes back in a pine box. Sometimes it is all I can do to keep from breaking down into uncontrolable sobs thinking about the 2,684 people who have died in this war. I think about the 2,684 families that have been ripped apart and it crushes me. Then I think of all the people who will die tomorrow, and the next day, and on and on, and I do break down, I do cry.
I bawl for the dead, josh, and I honor them by trying to end this war, so that we can all stop crying and dying and losing loved ones.
So no, josh, I will not smile tomorrow. I don't think I'll be smiling for a very long time.