Before the sun rose on Saturday morning, the men of B SECFOR, were readying themselves for the first formation of the day. Their night in sleeping bags on the concrete floor of the armory brought weary eyes and stiffness. It was a subtle reminder that they were soon to leave the comforts of their home. I have always been impressed with this part of the soldiers life; a seeming contradiction of sorts. These are the men that represent the front line. Carrying loads of equipment that most would not bear, while enduring sleepless nights, days on end of dirt and grime, and missions that place their life at the brink. Yet in the quiet of that morning, each man arrived in formation clean shaven, uniforms neat and crisp, looking more suitable for an interview for a new job, than men ready for war. Pride.

For a soldier, the going away is an act of duty, an honor, a place of responsibility. Families feel the pain, but the soldier knows he will return... even if he does not. He will not let himself fear the unknown, that question of life or death, for those are questions left to a future that has not been written. It is not that he does not feel; he does. It is not that he does not cry; he weeps. It is not that he does not long for the comfort of his family or his children; he holds his arms tight as he sleeps. His duty demands that he stand strong, to face the pains and fears, allowing those around him to shed the tears he cannot share. His pack is heavier than weight alone.

I have heard it said too many times that men make wars. Perhaps, but men do not choose to look their loved one in the eye to see her tears slowly fall. Men do not choose leave their families behind and their wives to parent alone. One cannot describe that place of duty and honor to one that stands on the side. It is something that pulls at you, greater at times than love, and drives you forward to places that few dare tread. It is more than a responsibility. It is more than a desire. It a mix of all that you believe, all that remains to be discovered, and all that stirs relentlessly in your soul. The pain of war shows on the faces of those that we love.

Then the call came. Standing in formation, the 1st Sergeant at it's head, the word was given. As eyes left their forward gaze of attention, the reality of deployment was stated in the words that only an infantryman can truly understand... "Get it on, gentlemen." The door was raised, packs loaded, and the buses shuttled them off to the waiting plane.

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Copyright, Scott Kesterson- 2006

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