No bomb that ever burned/ Shatters the human spirit

Since I've started writing about my experiences in Thailand, I have learned to appreciate the writing of other people who, like me, are also away from home and their loved ones. And while I am aware that words can never fully capture the experience of living in a foreign country under circumstances different from home, I'd like to think that the stories we share--through blogs, emails, and letters--provide a decent enough picture of the lives we lead. After all, I believe that the main reason we share our stories in the first place is so our loved ones, those we have left behind, get to stay connected to us--even in only through our writing.

It is this belief I think that stirred my emotions when I came across NEWSWEEKS' April 2nd cover story, Voices of the Fallen: The Iraq War in the Words of America's Dead.

Over the past three months, I have written about my life in Thailand, of squat toilets and bucket showers; of language miscommunications and exotic dishes. I have written about being a Peace Corps Volunteer--an experience that has been among the most intense experiences of my life. Recently, I read the letters in Newsweek, written by men and women, many younger than myself who, like me, are far away from home and loved ones and who, like me, are also experiencing some pretty intense things. And while I could relate to the homesickness and the desire to stay connected with loved ones through writing, and while I could understand what it's like to miss home, I realized that I would NEVER understand the intensity of what they were going through. Never.

But I tried to anyway. I tried thinking of what I go through on a daily basis and I attempted to magnify it if only to gain some perspective and understand what the soldiers were going though a little better. In the end, I realized it was impossible.

My single greatest daily fear is that my neighbor's dog will chase me as I bike past his house... a fear miniscule in comparison to the risk of snipers and IED's.

My single greatest discomfort is the heat of Thailand and the humidity that comes with living in a tropical country. I'm not sure what the heat is like in Iraq but I know it's pretty hot. Plus our troops can go weeks without a shower while carrying loads of heavy equipment.

I worry about the sanitation of my food. But I don't have to worry about fighting a battle with an upset stomach.

I wake up in the morning and say that "today may be the day that the language breakthrough occurs." Our troops wake up with the awareness that--as American soldier Travis Youngblood wrote in a letter--"any day I'm here could be the day I die."

"Nope," I told myself, "I would never understand what they went through and I will never understand what the other troops are going through right now."

And so I kept reading about the horrible situation people my age are going through and I read about the causes of death (humvee overturned, IED explosion, drowned, killed by sniper while on patrol) and I read about the ages of those killed (21,19, 26, 22, 21) and I found myself in tears.

As I said earlier, I have learned to appreciate the writing of people far away from home. More importantly, I learned to appreciate the writers themselves. People have a general idea of the Peace Corps and what life as a voulunteer is like. I did too. But now, as I read through blogs, I am aware that every volunteer has a name and his/her own unique experiences. Every single volunteer has people he/she misses and people he/she wishes to stay connected to. As I read the letters in Newsweek, I felt the exact same way for our troops. While I have always been supportive of our soldiers and have included them in my prayers, I always thought of them collectively. Reading their letters and recognizing the common desire to simply stay connected, the desire to let a loved one know they are missed, the desire to check on things at home, made me realize how each troop is an individual as well with his/her own set of unique experiences. It made me realize how human each troop is.

So while I may never understand what they are going through, I can certainly focus on what we share--our humanity and our love for the people we left behind. And just as I drew on my experiences here in an attempt to gain perspective into the difficulties they were going through, perhaps I could do the same in terms of their joys. For as my struggles and worries are petty compared to what they face, perhaps the things that bring me joy are things they appreciate even more. And the thing that has brought me the most joy--other than the work I am doing in my village--has been hearing from home. Nothing brightens my day more than a phone call from my family or a letter from Caitlin or a Facebook message from an old friend. And if these things can make a person who worries about being chased by dogs smile, imagine what it can do for people surrounded by the horrors of war.

Every so often, I also receive random words of encouragement. I've had people tell me that what I'm doing is something they wish they cold be doing. I've had people tell me that they are very impressed that I would choose to give two years of my life to do such work. These things definitely help keep my spirit alive. I wonder if our troops receive similar messages as well? I sure hope so because what I am doing and whatever sacrifices I'm making is nothing compared to theirs.

So now a favor. If any of you reading this happen to know someone in the armed forces, please send them a message. Be it a cousin, a friend, an acquaintance even...send them a message. Send a message out of the blue to say hello and that you are thinking of them. If possible, even send me an email address of a soldier you know and I will say hello as well.

And also, let us not take things for granted. As I read the letters, I could not stop thinking about the people I loved the most. These letters celebrated how human our troops were and what makes us human is that we are capable of loving. No matter how horrible the situation described in the letter, they did not fail to end it with a "I miss you" or an "I love you. "

I end this with some stanzas from Orwell taken from his essay "Looking Back On the Spanish War" I altered it a bit and the alterations are in italics.

Good luck go with you American soldier
But luck is not for the brave
What would the world give back to you
Any less than than you gave

Between the shadow and the ghost
Between the white and the red
Between the bullet and the lie
WHere would you hide your head

For where is Travis Youngblood
For where is Kenneth Ballard
For where is Trevor Aston
The earthworms know where they are

Your name and your deeds were forgotten
Before your bones were dry
And the lie that slew you is buried
Under a deeper lie

But the one thing I saw in your letters
No power can disinherit
No bomb that ever burned
Shatters the human spirit.