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Jul. 7th, 2008
TM Prompt: 236: Respect
Jul. 7th, 2008 09:03 pm[locked from TM_Wintergreen, otherwise open]
Respect.
The one man I have always been most willing to give respect to... has instead spent half of our lives playing the role of the perfect man at arms for me. While I was an enlisted man, respect was something you gave the senior non-coms automatically, and the officers to their face (and then, honestly, to the ones that deserved it, few as those may have been). But him? He had my respect from the moment he threw himself between me and a barracks beating that had been meant to kill me for my choice to keep my self-respect and my country's honor in mind. He never did a thing to lose it, either, no matter what situations we were thrown into, he handled himself with the same strength and pride I wanted to so badly. Once I was pushed (not so gently) towards OCS, and fought my way to my own commission, I'd long since lost most of my respect for the chain of command--barring specific individuals. I'd seen too damn much corruption, too many rewards given for acts that repulsed me because of the beliefs I was raised with, too many escape punishment for me to have any faith in the chain as a whole.
There were others among my commanders, among some of my teachers, who I absolutely respected. Men (and one amazing woman) who honestly followed the Army's best principles, that demanded the best from themselves and everyone under them... those were the people I thought worth respecting. And I had learned that reading at the side of one of the most principled, dangerous men I had ever met. I'd already had a decent dose of it before (Frannie saw to that, despite my father's ways), but he honed it--and taught me when not to let my disdain show.
You've probably all met the man I'm talking about. Ret. Major W.R. Wintergreen, S.A.S. Not that he was retired then.
My mentor, my teacher, my friend, ally, protector, and eventually, in some bizarre chain of events I still hardly understand, the right hand and strong shield arm I don't know what I'd do without.
I thought I was going to find out, once avenging him was finished. I don't know if even my wife could have kept me from falling into the soldier's nightmares once I had to truly face the fact that I'd lost him, and not lose myself in the black cold comfort of vengeance.
There's no way I can repay the gift Africa gave me when she gave me back her favorite son. But I'm going to try, despite knowing that I can't. She seems to have become my adopted home, much as my first love and loyalty will always be to the Stars and Stripes. Lady Liberty seems to care little for those of us who walk the darker side of life, hemmed and bound in red tape and more consideration for technicalities of legal privilege and wealth and power as she has become. Though there are times I cannot walk her streets bare-faced for jobs I have taken, she's still my country, and my words from decades ago stand yet.
I am many things, but I don't act against my nation. I respect her, what she can be, what she must be, too much for that.
Respect.
The one man I have always been most willing to give respect to... has instead spent half of our lives playing the role of the perfect man at arms for me. While I was an enlisted man, respect was something you gave the senior non-coms automatically, and the officers to their face (and then, honestly, to the ones that deserved it, few as those may have been). But him? He had my respect from the moment he threw himself between me and a barracks beating that had been meant to kill me for my choice to keep my self-respect and my country's honor in mind. He never did a thing to lose it, either, no matter what situations we were thrown into, he handled himself with the same strength and pride I wanted to so badly. Once I was pushed (not so gently) towards OCS, and fought my way to my own commission, I'd long since lost most of my respect for the chain of command--barring specific individuals. I'd seen too damn much corruption, too many rewards given for acts that repulsed me because of the beliefs I was raised with, too many escape punishment for me to have any faith in the chain as a whole.
There were others among my commanders, among some of my teachers, who I absolutely respected. Men (and one amazing woman) who honestly followed the Army's best principles, that demanded the best from themselves and everyone under them... those were the people I thought worth respecting. And I had learned that reading at the side of one of the most principled, dangerous men I had ever met. I'd already had a decent dose of it before (Frannie saw to that, despite my father's ways), but he honed it--and taught me when not to let my disdain show.
You've probably all met the man I'm talking about. Ret. Major W.R. Wintergreen, S.A.S. Not that he was retired then.
My mentor, my teacher, my friend, ally, protector, and eventually, in some bizarre chain of events I still hardly understand, the right hand and strong shield arm I don't know what I'd do without.
I thought I was going to find out, once avenging him was finished. I don't know if even my wife could have kept me from falling into the soldier's nightmares once I had to truly face the fact that I'd lost him, and not lose myself in the black cold comfort of vengeance.
There's no way I can repay the gift Africa gave me when she gave me back her favorite son. But I'm going to try, despite knowing that I can't. She seems to have become my adopted home, much as my first love and loyalty will always be to the Stars and Stripes. Lady Liberty seems to care little for those of us who walk the darker side of life, hemmed and bound in red tape and more consideration for technicalities of legal privilege and wealth and power as she has become. Though there are times I cannot walk her streets bare-faced for jobs I have taken, she's still my country, and my words from decades ago stand yet.
I am many things, but I don't act against my nation. I respect her, what she can be, what she must be, too much for that.