Northerners like me have discovered the beauty and warmth of southern living and are moving here in droves.
While our population increases, a fraction of our residents are leaving. Quietly, without bravado or ceremony, we watch them disappear from the school car line. They do not appear as often in the grocery or drug stores. Students miss school to say good-bye to them (some for the third or fourth time). There is a new concern in the faces of siblings and spouses left behind.
I am speaking of the mighty men and women who are fighting for us overseas. This military town is feeling the war in it’s collective heart. We are less without them, we are more for knowing them.
Fort Stewart is the home of our heroes. This is the same Fort that recently hosted CBS News reporter Katie Courac. She walked the long lawn of memorial trees planted on base for those who did not return from service in the Middle East. Many of these trees have personal mementos placed near to them. All have been watered with the tears of loved ones.
When I say that these soldiers are fighting for us, the words do not feel quite right. While they risk their lives and severe injury to free Iraq from decades of turmoil and terror, I am not certain that we the residents of the United States want them there. In fact, most I talk to have had enough.
The war in Iraq cannot be won. There will likely be civil unrest for as long as Iraq exists. The Middle East has been a bloody battlefield since biblical times. We must fight the war on terrorism with intelligence. What is the plan to bring our soldiers home?
About four months ago, I was struggling to get to sleep. Large planes were passing over the marsh behind my house every 10 minutes. The sound boomed into our bedroom. We had never had any significant air traffic over our neighborhood. On occasion, we would see the majestic fighter jets in formation, or wave to an army helicopter as it circled low. But never was the traffic so frequent.
Unable to sleep, I called the Savannah Airport to see if the traffic pattern had been changed. These planes looked like large commercial flights. I was assured that the flight plan was not over my house. Relieved but still sleepless, I tried to sleep again and watched the planes pass by.
The phone rang, it was the Air Controller calling me back.
“Ma’m”, he said, ” I just wanted to let you know that all the traffic is Army. They are bringing our soldiers home.”
After the call, we watched the planes with joy in our hearts. Each one was a celebration. Hundreds of our soldiers would touch down on American soil that night, safe and sound.
As our most heroic residents leave this week and in the coming months, I will be watching the horizon and praying for the continuous, thunderous sound of jets to awaken me once more.
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