I've witnessed some injuries on projects. One involved a mangled hand, with the realization the pink stuff in the exposed inner flesh of the fingers was live bone. It was terrible to behold, and the helplessness to offer much relief was unpleasant.
That's mild, compared to those that watched friends succumb to injury during battle. I can only imagine trying to help hold intestines in, while waiting for a medivac, or listening to the wails of someone with nerves reacting to a wound that will eventually end their life.
We honor those that fell during their service this weekend, but I like to honor those that survived, wondered about their luck, felt some guilt for surviving, and went on to live their lives in a society that rarely contemplates the horror of combat.
We're all in this together, and we're all responsible for all that transpires during the tribulations of our nation. Never forget those that sacrificed their life, and never discount the importance of all that are part of our national defense.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.