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by Nan Keltie

Created on: March 22, 2008   Last Updated: December 04, 2008

A Son Overseas ~

When he called from D.C. on September 11, 2001, the first thing our son told us was that he was safe. Enrolled in college there, one of his part-time jobs was ferrying people to the White House for meetings. His route took him past the Pentagon - the same building that was on our TV screen - split wide open when a jet slammed into its side. It was the third plane used by terrorists to destroy and maim our citizens. American was reeling with shock.

Hearing my boy's voice and knowing he was okay was an answer to prayer. It was the next thing he said, though, that knocked the breath right out of me. After witnessing the devastation on that horrific day, he and some of his buddies at college began talking about joining the Marines. I figured they'd talk it over for a few days and eventually change their minds. Most of them did, but our son did not.

I didn't want him going off to war! This was my "Gentle Giant," the son who'd always been a loyal friend, a team-player and an encourager. Anytime the odds were against his baseball and basketball team, he'd be yelling encouragement to his pals: "C'mon, team! We can do this!" His coaches told us he never gave less than 100 percent.

Back then, when someone asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, our son never said he wanted to join the military. In fact, he'd declared he'd never serve without being drafted. When he said he was thinking about joining the Marines, I was shocked. This was a young man in his second year of college on an academic scholarship. This was a gentle-hearted boy who couldn't stand to see an animal suffer. I couldn't imagine him turning into a warrior.

At the same time, I was deep-down proud of his courage. We were a nation reeling with the horror of reality news and its images: people jumping 30 floors to their death from the Twin Towers, terrified faces of others who ran for their lives as buildings around them collapsed. The shock and unbelief on faces of emergency personnel there on the scene. Images of our Pentagon, broken and smokin' on the horizon of our Capitol.

Have we forgotten the emergency teams who died so others could live? How long since we thought about the brave medical teams who spent days after day working without sleep to help the injured? Do we even realize how many others could have and would have died if not for the brave passengers on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania? They, like our brave troops, sacrificed their own lives to save Americans they didn't even know.

While all of this tragedy unfolded, the rest of America put everything on hold to stare, in unbelief, at the TV screen. Were other planes still aimed at cities like Buffalo or Birmingham, Miami or Memphis, San Diego or San Antonio? Life, as we knew it, was suddenly fragile and precious. We prayed, attended church, lit candles, gave blood for the injured, donated time and energy to assist where needed. We were America - land of the free, home of the brave!

My son is in Baghdad, Iraq even as I write. Am I happy he's there amidst turmoil and tragedy? Of course not. I'd much rather have him in America. Do I support what he's doing? You'd better believe it. I've got "Support our Troops" bumper stickers on my car. I've also got a "Marine Mom and Proud of It" mug my son gave me before he left. It's sitting here on my desk as I write, and it reminds me of my boy - so nobody better mess with my mug.

Do I like this war? Let me answer that question with a question: Does anyone, anywhere like any war? I don't. However, I choose to support our military and what they are doing overseas. Thanks to them, I can lay my head down at night and not worry about war coming to America any time soon.

If you ask me to draw a line between the troops and the war, I cannot. I will not. Our troops, my son included, are warriors. They went into bootcamp as boys and girls and came out as proud patriots - troops we can trust to defend us. They are warriors at war, and they are committed to winning this war.

If we don't support our warriors, we might as well shout, "What you're doing stinks!" That would be like saying, "We support Martin Luther King but not his ideals." Or "We support our teachers, but not the job they're doing!" Since troops are committed and have even sworn to do their jobs well, I don't think we can separate them and the battle they are fighting. To do so would undermine and defeat them.

My son may be in full combat gear, but he's still a loyal team player who cares about his comrades. He's always going to give 100 percent, because that's who he is. I can almost hear him hollering when the odds are stacked against them, "C'mon team, we can do this!" He's just that kind of man, and he's still displaying the traits we saw in him as a youngster.

Would I ever tell him I don't support the pledge he made to his country following September 11, 2001? Would I argue he's making a big mistake if he stands up to those who've tortured and killed his comrades? I would never shame my son's honor by disputing the decision he made when he swore to serve his country. Not on your life.

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