August 31, 2004 08:17
Dear mom & dad:
We encompass thirteen men dead, as of last night and twelve men indignant. I was blessed enough to not be one of them. A friend of mine, Lt. James Seavey, had been hit by shrapnel, and ended up recuperating from triage. It has been a gruesome vista seeing the blood and guts all over the place. I guess George was right, when he read the Bible last night.
The Serge says that it would have to make a good hell of a fighter to become where we are and not die. But I don't think so. I think that is the devotion and affection of the good Lord, as some of the soldiers say. Now, you know that I am not Christian or anything, but lately, I am wondering if I am. I keep running what George read (and quoted) the other night in my head: Matthew 5:43-44:
You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute. I am heading toward a headstream and a mad attitude towards this pointless war. I am holding my hand on an Iranian Bible and admiring in aw on how the words are all beauty in Iranian libretto of calligraphy. I begin to think about what might happen if they find one of our Bibles. What would they begin to think? The same thing, which I am right now?
Reveille has just been played, which means that we will have to be ready to move out soon and get ready to go with the course of the enemy. I know and feel that today there is going to be another suicide intimidation or car side bombing. I am scared for little Jeffery, who's fresh out of high school and has never shot a gun before now. He has lost his sagacity of confidence and optimism. He doesn't even look at the bible or pray, he claims that he is believes in god, but he don't act like it. All he can say is "I am going to be ready when the Lord takes me to his kingdom", well I am still boldly looking for that kingdom. I don't know what to do anymore. I am getting sick of being here and want to go home; I am hoping that I make it there for the holidays.
I have nothing more to say.
Love,
Your son,
Francis