Nov. 09, 2002 ~ A night at the movies
The only thing harder than watching "Saving Private Ryan" with Soldier Boy at my side is watching it without him. Last year he was home on leave, and I guess it must have been showing on TV then, too. We all sat and watched it... in the dark. That way no one could see me cry, or so I liked to think. I remember stealing glances at him, wondering how he was reacting to certain scenes.
A couple of years ago, while some friends were visiting from out of town, we gathered on the hillside at the back of the farm. Ed talked about some of his wartime experiences, and he mentioned this movie they'd recently seen. How sad it was, how difficult to watch. How realistic. How it captured the feeling of what it was like to really be there. I've never gone in for violent movies... they just don't do it for me, but out of respect for Ed, I watched this one. And it was everything he said it was... realistic, sad, painful to watch. And moving, extremely moving.
Seeing it with Soldier Boy, that was the second time. And seeing it tonight, without him, was the third. Some of the things are familiar to me now. Terms like the 101ST, the 82ND, and Charlie Company. I'm a bit more familiar with the language. But this time, right from the very beginning footage, I saw those men fighting and dying, and thought... oh... look at all those Soldier Boys. Every one of them, some mother's son. Someone's baby. In several death scenes, the men were screaming in pain, calling out for their mothers, for their homes. And I remembered another time when my son was very young and in great pain, and it tore at my heart like nothing before or since. I just cannot imagine what it must be like to know that your child suffered such horrific pain, in some battle on foreign soil, far from home. Frightened, bewildered...
I didn't raise my son for this. No one did. There must be some mistake. What is our president thinking, preparing to send our boys into battle? Would he be so quick to risk their lives if his own children were sons, if their lives would be on the line? It's doubtful that the president's children would ever be at such risk, but... why is it okay to risk my son's life, and the lives of other mothers' sons?
I don't want a hero. I just want my son home, safe and sound. As a friend said recently... "In and out with not a scratch."
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