Take a look at that face.
See it.
Study it.
Imagine what kind of life led up to that photo.
Imagine the countless people touched by that face.
Please look at it one more time.
That's Sgt. John "Kyle" Daggett, 22, Airborne Army Ranger from Phoenix, AZ.
He died earlier this month from injuries sustained when an airburst mortar exploded over the armored vehicle he was traveling in.
Daggett was in the rear gun hatch, exposed, along with another soldier when the explosion occurred in Baghdad.
Sgt. Daggett's injuries were overwhelming yet he made it from Baghdad to Germany to Halifax, Nova Scotia, where he finally succumbed.
I know absolutely nothing about Sgt. Daggett's life, except that he died a hero. And that, after the mortar exploded, the driver of the vehicle who recovered enough to drive "like a bat out of hell to the evac site, taking out vehicles, utility poles and anything else in his way" was my nephew James McCarthy.
Jimmy is still there. In harm's way. And now he is a veteran — he is still on active duty, of course, but he is a veteran. For our sake — he now knows what most of us will never know and has seen what most of us will never see.
For our sake.
I can imagine, but I cannot comprehend, what that reality is like.
It seems the only way to be a truly concerned and engaged citizen, not only of this country but of the world is to make it personal. Make it specific.
Look at that picture of Sgt. Daggett once again.
See what was sacrificed.
That is specific.
Imagining my nephew in the chaos of battle.
That is specific.
The burden of the unknown carried by his mother — my sister — every day.
That is specific.
The injuries sustained by SPC Shane Stuard — who was riding alongside Sgt. Daggett — are specific.
Shane, a father of three, is recovering from his injuries at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.
We hear he digs mail — especially from kids.
Take a minute, remember and send it to:
SPC Shane Stuard
Walter Reed Army Medical Center
Ward 57
6900 Georgia Avenue NW
Washington DC 20307
I'm anti-war. I think any sane person is.
But I am pro-soldier ... because war is the worst thing on this earth and soldiers know it and they choose to do it anyway — so the rest of us don't have to.
I once was in a room with four Vietnam veterans and a Desert Storm veteran. The conversation centered on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and the realities of being a soldier. At one point, the Desert Storm vet looked me in the eye and asked, "How come you never served your country?" There was no malice in the asking, but all conversation stopped and everyone waited for an answer.
I had no answer that seemed adequate so I told the truth, "I made the choice to avail myself of the freedoms that you have fought to provide me ... Thank you."
And one of the Vietnam vets stuck out a hand and said, "Fair enough. You're welcome."
I shook his hand and remembered my old man talking about fighting in the South Pacific in World War II. And what that cost him.
Now I remember my nephew Jimmy in Baghdad and his buddy Shane at Walter Reed.
Most of all, though, I think I'll remember that face in the picture.
And I'll try to remember the cost of my freedom.
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