I guess I need to say something about 9-11

There’s a lot I would like to say, but others have already done so quite eloquently. For example Borepatch has penned:

Thirteen years after the attack on Pearl Harbor it was December 1954. The risk of an attack by assets of Germany or Japan in December 1954 could reasonably be called low.

We are thirteen years past the attacks on the United States that occurred on September 11th, 2001. Would anyone be surprised if the United States was attacked again today? Tomorrow?

George Bush’s biggest mistake was not going to Congress on September 12, 2001 and asking for a declaration of war.

While JayG summed up the rest of my feelings about what should have been/needs to be done with the following:

I don’t give a hairy rat’s patoot if they love us. I don’t care if they respect us. I want them to fear us. I want the next terrorist @$$hole who talks about blowing something in America up to be shot by his own compatriots, out of pure unmitigated fear that we might hear about it and come back and do to them what we did to the last group that messed with us.

I wanted to say something like that but instead my thoughts are drawn elsewhere. I think about people I knew who didn’t survive the conflict that goes on to this day. Friends who came back broken. Some physically, some mentally and some physically and mentally. Watching parents bury their children and children bury a parent. I remember that day when the attacks happened and the frantic call from my new bride asking if I could be recalled to duty. I assured her my time had passed and that the only way I would be going back is if I volunteered, and ailments that surfaced since my separation prevented that.

What I never told her is how much I wished I was still there, but my career had been destroyed by a woman who hid her illness well until she couldn’t resist the urge to abuse a young child. Protecting that child had become the focus of my life towards the end of my career and repairing the damage is a work in progress to this day. Now thirteen years later as my body still keeps trying to fail me, I still feel like the retired firehouse dog on the porch. I watch those who are able rush to the fight and wish I could go with them. In the end all I can do is what I can to support those going, those there, and those who came back. My favorite charity is americansnipers.org I suggest you read up on them and if you like them and can do so toss them a donation.

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