Our friends died to secure this day. And here on this road in Diyala, I saw proof that the blood spilled in this backward country had value. It made the cause noble and just. This may not mean much to someone who stands in opposition to our fight, but it is the legacy of our fallen. The honor of their sacrifice. They gave their lives for others like me to come home. They died trying to preserve freedom for this woman. They confronted those who wished to dominate a people in the name of violence and religion, who wished to destroy our culture and way of life. Even if most Americans may not understand who or what we fight, these men not only believed, many reenlisted to continue the fight until the war was won. I came home in search of that woman’s spirit in the hearts of my fellow Americans. I came home expecting to find the sacrifice of these brave patriots revered at every turn by those who overwhelmingly sent us to war from Washington.
I’m still looking.
That's the funny thing about democracy, so noble and just in the achievement and so small and vicious in the practice. For the moment, all I can say to David Bellavia is that one day, when the fight over the war is over, and no more "gotchas" can be gotten, the real achievement of he and his comrades will be known, and the shock and awe of it will stand as solemn as the gardens of Arlington.
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