To Hold A Dream In Your Hand Pt. 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
Every other person knows who Paris Hilton and Tom Cruise are, but do they know about the heros who have fought and died for them? Do they even care?

Submitted: April 15, 2008

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Submitted: April 15, 2008

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I am no one’s hero. My life has been mostly uneventful and insignificant. I can’t claim that I pulled someone out of a burning building, nor did I stop some madman from shooting a bunch of people in a movie theatre. I’ve never been able to say that I changed someone’s life, or helped a complete stranger just because I thought it was right. To tell the truth, I haven’t done much of anything. For awhile, the farm life was all I ever knew, for awhile anyway. I grew up on a tobacco farm in southern Kentucky. My Daddy used to own the land, and when died in January of ’57, my wife and I packed up our bags and moved into his old place. My wife, Lizzie, was eight months pregnant at that point. My brother and his wife came out to live with us until the children were born. By late February, I was the father of a perfectly healthy set of twins; one boy and one girl. For me, life was pretty regular. I never did anything special, nothing I could really be proud of. And that was O.K. with me. The only point in my life that really stands out (the only point that really matters) is my tour of duty in Vietnam.
Yeah, yeah. I know you’re rolling your eyes and groaning right now. And you’re probably thinking “Oh no! Not another Vietnam story!” I understand completely. To tell the truth, I don’t really want to hear another Vietnam story either, although, my reasons for wanting to turn a deaf ear are completely different from yours. But I feel that this story needs to be told. No, it’s not really about me, even though I am a big part of the story (I mean, I’m the narrator for goodness sake). Rather, this story is about the war itself, and the brave men who fought and died in those Godforsaken jungles. I know that sounds horribly cliché of me to say. But you, young reader, weren’t there. You didn’t see it. You didn’t see the horrified looks on those soldier’s faces as their comrades were shredded by automatic fire and left to rot thousands of miles from home. You didn’t see the eighteen-year-old kids stabbing a dead Vietcong with his bayonet over and over in complete and utter fright. You didn’t see the men weeping in their beds at night because all they wanted to do was go home to their families, but Uncle Sam wouldn’t let them. And YOU weren’t right there in the thick of it.
This isn’t an anti-war book. Nor is it a stab at the American government. This is merely my attempt to show our country what our soldiers go through on the battlefield. I’m not trying to change the world with this. I’m just trying to honor those who have laid down their lives for our country. Have you noticed that no one really does that anymore? Every other person knows who Paris Hilton and Tom Cruise are, but how many people know about the men who threw themselves upon grenades to protect the lives of their brother’s in arms. Who knows about the men who ran through storms of bullets to save one man? Who knows about the men who stepped up and led their brothers through the mud and the artillery fire and the stinking, decaying corpses? What are their names? Do you know? Do you even care?
I’m not trying to change the world. I’m just trying to show people what heroes really are.


© Copyright 2017 Aleksander Azrael. All rights reserved.

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