THE FALLEN SOLDIER
JOCKO WILLINK
I am the fallen soldier, sailor, airman, and Marine.
Remember me.
I am the one that held the line. Sometimes I volunteered. Sometimes I
went because I was
told to go.
But when the nation called…I answered.
In order to serve, I left behind the family, friends, and freedom that
so many take for granted.
Over time, I used different weapons: a sword, a musket, a bayonet, a
rifle, a machine gun.
Often, I marched into battle on foot. Other times, I rode to battle on
horseback or in wagons;
sometimes on trains; later, in tanks or Jeeps or Humvees.
In early wars, my ships were made of wood and powered by the wind.
Later, they were made
of steel and powered by diesel fuel or the atom. I even took to the
air and mastered the sky in
planes, helicopters, and jets. The machines of war evolved and changed
with the times.
But remember that it was always me—the warrior—that had to fight our
nation’s enemies.
I fought at Lexington and Concord as our nation was born.
I crossed the Delaware on Christmas Day in 1776.
In the Civil War, I fought with my brothers—and against my brothers—at
Gettysburg and Shiloh
and Bull Run. I learned that we must never again divide.
In World War l, I marched on the Marne and held the line at Belleau
Wood. “The war to end all
wars,” they called it. I just called it “hell.”
In World War ll, I fought everywhere: the beaches of Normandy, the
Battle of the Bulge, the hell
of Guadalcanal. I stood against tyranny and kept darkness from
consuming the world.
In Korea, I landed at Inchon and broke out of the Chosin Reservoir.
They called it “the forgotten
war”—but I never forgot.
In Vietnam, I fought in the Mekong Delta, at Khe Sanh and Hamburger
Hill. Some say my
country wavered. But I did not waiver. Ever.
In the recent past, I have fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. In Baghdad,
Fallujah, and Ramadi.
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In Kunar, Helmand, and Kandahar.
As technology advanced, I used night vision goggles and global
positioning systems and
drones and lasers and thermal optics.
But it was still me, a human being, that did the work. It was me that
patrolled up the mountains
or across the desert or through the streets. It was me that suffered
in merciless heat and
bitter cold. It was me that went out, night after night, to confront
our nation’s enemies and
confront evil face-to-face.
It was me. Remember me. I was a warrior.
But also remember that I was not only a warrior. Remember also that I
was a son, a brother,
a father. I was a daughter, a sister, a mother. I was a person—like
you, a real person—with
hopes and dreams for the future. I wanted to have children. I wanted
to see my son score a
touchdown or shoot the winning basket. I wanted to walk my daughter
down the aisle. I wanted
to kiss my wife again. When I told her I would be with her until the
end, I meant it. When I told
my children I would always be there for them, I meant it.
But I gave all that away.
All of it.
On that distant battlefield, amongst the fear and the fire and the
bullets. Or in the sky above
enemy territory filled with flak. Or on the unforgiving sea, where we
fought against the enemy
and against the depths of the abyss. There, in those awful places, I
held the line.
I did not waiver and I did not hesitate. I, the soldier, sailor,
airman, or Marine. I stood my ground
and sacrificed my life—my future, my hopes, my dreams. I sacrificed
everything—for you.
This Memorial Day, remember me—the fallen warrior. And remember me not
for my sake, but
for yours. Remember what I sacrificed so you can truly appreciate the
incredible treasures you
have: Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness.
You have the joys of life—the joys that I gave up so that you can
relish in them: a cool wind in
the air…the gentle spring grass on your bare feet...the warm summer
sun on your face.
Family. Friends. And freedom. Never forget where it all came from. It
came from sacrifice—the
supreme sacrifice.
Live a life that honors us, the fallen heroes.
Remember us. And make every day...Memorial Day