I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE THIS STORY WITH THE WORLD.
THIS STORY WAS SENT TO ME BY ONE OF MY 11TH ARMORED CAVALRY BROTHERS .
(The following story was written by Lori Kimble, a 31 year old teacher and proud military wife. Mrs. Kimble, a California
native, currently lives in Alabama).
I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you find all over the country. You know the type--a
bucket of peanuts on every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college kids racing around with longneck
beers and sizzling platters. Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my glass. My gaze lingered on
a group enjoying their meal. They wore no uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely "military"
- clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look that comes with pride. Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table
to the empty seat where my husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this very booth, talking about
his upcoming deployment to the Middle East. That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back to this
restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn he would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking
about him until he returned home. I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he was at this very
moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better? Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these thoughts,
high pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts. "I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading
Iraq. You'd think that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he is even in
office. You do know, he stole the election." I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an endless tirade
running down our president. I thought about the last night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just
returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask still
gives me chills. Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in
and rape and steal all the oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Humph! I wonder how many innocent people they'll kill without
giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you know." My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see how
handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably
his desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy bulletproof vest over it. "You know, we should just
leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase the president's
popularity. That's all it is, padding the military budget at the expense of our social security and education. And, you know
what else? We're just asking for another 9-ll. I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it." Their words brought
to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men and
women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom? Do they even know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table
where the young men were sitting, and saw their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each other
dejectedly, listening to the women talking. "Well, I, for one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly
sick of our tax dollars going to train professional baby-killers we call a military." Professional baby-killers? I thought
about what a wonderful father my husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our children again. That's it!
Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight
one voice will answer on behalf of our military, and let her pride in our troops be known. Sliding out of my booth, I walked
around to the adjoining booth and placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with them, smilingly said,
"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you know
why? Because my husband, who I love with all my heart, is halfway around the world defending your right to say rotten things
about him." "Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of my business. However, what you say in
public is something else, and I will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY husband, and all the
other fine American men and women who put their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to complain. Freedom
is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions cheapen it." I must have been louder that I meant to be, because
the manager came over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I replied. Then, turning back to the women,
I said, "Enjoy the rest of your meal."
As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for making a scene,
and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked up their check and scurried away. After finishing my meal, and while
waiting for my check, the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those soldiers," he said. He
also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I asked who,
the manager said they had already left, but that the gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one
of our boys." With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from
ear to ear, they came over and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we can't get into confrontations
with civilians, so we appreciate what you did." As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I didn't
feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they,
too, were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers. I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next
day. Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their pride in our country, and the military who protect her.
And maybe, just maybe, the two women who were railing against our country, would pause for a minute to appreciate all the
freedom America offers, and the price it pays to maintain it's freedom. As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make
a difference. Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I live, I will proudly stand on the
opposite side with a sign of my own. It will simply say, "Thank You!" To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor
the protected will never know.
GOD BLESS AMERICA! Please pray for God's protection of our troops and HIS wisdom for their
commanders. Pass this on to as many as you think will respond.
"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them
as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. I ask this
in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior." When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground,
air and navy personnel in every area of the middle east. There is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful.... Just
send this to all the people in your address book. Do not stop this prayer chain, please.... Of all the gifts you could give
to anyone in the US Military, be it Air Force, Army, Navy, Marines or National Guard,
Prayer is the very best one.....Amen!