Three Shots Rang Out

I got lucky in the lottery draft of 1969 – my number was 235. I did not have to report for duty in 1970 when the United States of America was deeply involved in the conflict in Vietnam. I have stood and wept at The Memorial with a trophy in my hand – a trophy bearing the name of Donald Kilpatrick – a former soccer player in my high school who died in the east. My daughter etched his name in charcoal and gave it to me for a birthday gift one summer. I cried, again. Such waste, such spoil, such heartache. It is both odd and inspiring that support for our military seems to survive. No matter the political posture, we Americans understand the need for and support for those brave few among us that stand and serve. Should you ever wonder about their adeptness, quality, focus, ability, preparedness or willingness to serve, I would remind you of this: on high seas, in raft boats, 3 Navy Seals fired 3 shots, brought down 3 despicable human beings and rescued an innocent American citizen doing his job. Please pay attention to America at its best!