Crossing The Pond

I’m looking down at my boots. Tan sueded leather boots, carefully cleaned and brushed free of dirt but noticeably worn. They are standing on the threshold of my first deployment. I lift my gaze and my eyes strain to see through the doorway; very little can be discerned with absolute clarity. I sense that I’m not alone and glance over my shoulder to realize there is a platoon of 42 young men standing behind me. They are eagerly awaiting my direction. I become suddenly aware of their careful scrutiny and quickly mask my uncertainty. One more look at my boots and I straighten my uniform, square up my cover, and take a bold poised step into the unknown, confident I am being followed. I am writing this as I sit quietly in the back of the base theater, awaiting the arrival of the buses that will come to usher us off to the air base. I’m solemnly watching my men say goodbye to girlfriends, wives, children, and parents. It’s times like these that an unoccupied mind with a tendency to wander is particularly dangerous. I can’t help but wonder “did I train them to the best of my ability?” “Are they ready?” “What if…?” But I realize there is nothing left to say. It’s too late at this point. I’ve watched them develop into a formidable fighting force in just the four short months that I have had the privilege of commanding them. I would like to claim the glory there, but really I know they’ve had it in them this whole time, they just needed to realize their potential. There’s compassion in my heart for them that I can’t describe. They are like my kids…but I’m more demanding of them. They are like my brothers…but I am in a position of authority above them that delineates us. They are like my employees…but I have endured the miserable with them that bonds us. It is hard to describe the intangibles that exist there, but thinking about my men makes me proud. To think that only four months can do that, what will a seven month deployment reap? I hope you will endeavor to find out with me.