What if I told you that tomorrow morning, between four and five o'clock, you must run to your next door neighbor's house and kill everyone inside? Would you do it?  Keep in mind that, earlier, you would have taken an oath to protect, and you have no choice but to obey the command.  Would you grab your weapon, crash through Mr. and Mrs. Fontaine's front door and completely destroy everything and everyone inside?  How would it feel to complete that mission,turn around, return to your home and go back to all the things that you consider normal?  You know the things I'm talking about . . . taking the train to work, heading out to ball practice or mixing up a batch of corn muffins.

Well, for thousands of U.S. soldiers, that mission was not only commanded, but carried out.  For the 3,500 Marines who landed in Da Nang on March 8, 1965, this may be a familiar memory.  These young men, most under 21 years old, landed in a foreign country on the other side of the world and were immediately faced with machine-gun fire, land mines, and worst of all, the Viet Cong themselves. 

My brother was one of the Marines deployed to Viet Nam.  I was 15 years old at the time and had no concept of how truly awful his life would be in that beautiful, but ravaged, country.  The only sightseeing he did was done from his belly.  You see, he was given two missions.  Because he was an expert marksman, he was given the "tiltle," if you will of Sniper.  Think about what that means for a minute.  "You are SO good with a rifle, why, we'll count on you to carry out direct hits on these guys."  The sad part of that is, when you're in a war and bullets are flying, you often don't know exactly who's bullet hit who.  As a sniper . . . well, you get the picture.  And what comes with that are the painful, traumatic memories of knowing you were personally responsible for taking people's lives. 

Remember the Fontaine's?  People you looked in the eye each day?  Imagine crawling up the side of a hill and landing up close and personal with an enemy combatant, who says with his eyes, "Man, I got a family," and you return the same look.  You take pity, you each turn away, and then . . . in the bottom of your gut is a feeling of dread.  You slowly turn around to the barrel of his gun, knowing it's you or him.  Of course, you take the shot.  And then you cry.

But, then you are sent on another mission because another title has been given to you.  This time, not just because you're a sharpshooter, but because you also happen to be one of the smallest in the platoon.  That title, "Tunnel Rat."  What is a tunnel rat?  He's the one who, again, crawls on his belly and enters the Viet Cong underground tunnels, searching for the enemy.  I remember my brother saying to me, "It wasn't finding the Cong that scared me; it was the idea of going in that terrified me.

This story certainly leaves out a lot of what happened in Viet Nam in the sixties, but thousands of young men were killed.  And the ones who came home were damaged goods to one degree or another.  Some stayed that way.  Others, like my brother, determined not to let the atrocities of war keep him from living a full, productive and successful life.  I am so grateful and proud of him for that. 

Remember that these soldiers were just kids; kids who weeks earlier were playing guitar, running a football and starting careers.  The next week, they were ordered to kill people for whom they held no disdain.  And for that incredible sacrifice, they came home to ridicule.  No tickertape parades, no songs of praise or brass bands . . . only betrayal. 

As I think about our men and women serving in countries such as Afghanistan and Irag, I am saddened that many Americans perceive these soldiers in much the same way.  "Get out of there!"  "You've got no business over there!"  Whether we think it's right for us to be there or not, our fellow Americans, brave and willing, are there because they were called to protect.  My prayer is that we, as a nation, will not give them the homecoming our soldiers received after Viet Nam.  After all, they were ordered - commanded - to seek and destroy.  They are doing what most of us would never do.  And they don't think about themselves or about what their neighbors might say.  The don't ask why they are in Afghanistan, Iraq or Pakistan.  They just do it because they love being Americans.  They love their country.  And they love their freedom.

What about us?  Are we willing to protect our Children, our Nation, our Values and our Freedom to live in these United States, where we aren't starved to death or ordered to worship a demented leader?  I remind myself often of the sacrifices made on my behalf, and I thank God everyday that I live freely in this country, imperfect as it may be, because others have sacrificed themselves to make it possible.