I was a young man, 19 or 20 years of age, when I joined the U.S. Army, so full of fight for my country. I went through rigorous training. I learned how to kill to save my own life. They sent me far away from home into a war zone.
Immediately, rockets and gunfire surrounded me on every side. It was all too real. It was my worst nightmare. I was scared to death, but never had any time to think about it. I existed on pure adrenaline to stay alive.
The next thing I knew, I saw me lying on the ground in a pool of blood. "Oh my gosh, where were my arms?" With a lump in my throat, "My legs are gone!" "It was really me, right?" I looked into my face to identify me, but to my horror it had been blown off! It was still me, though! I frantically looked around and cried out, "Hey guys, it IS Me!"
They put what little was left of me into a pine box, draped the U.S. flag over the box and sent me home. "I didn't plan on coming home like this!"
The plane has landed. I was taken off first. The other KIAs came off next. I see people coming toward the caskets, but no one is coming to greet me. "Where is my family? Mom? Dad?" I looked around frantically, "Where is my brother? Uncle Dave? Didn't anyone tell them I was coming home?" Silence ..."I guess not!" There IS No One ... here to weep for me."
As I was laid in The Tomb of he Unknown Soldier, I realized that no one knows who I am. I wish I could tell them, but I can't. I guess only God knows who I am now! He didn't lose me. Silence ...Perhaps God is the only one who wept for me when I came home.