Global Conflict at My Front Door

We were a long line of mothers and young wives. The men we loved were walking away from us, heavily clad with their duffel bags and heavy boots. They were proud in their new uniforms, and we hoped they were prepared.

I was not prepared. I was not ready to send my son to war. They told my son that he was a part of the elite men who fight for their country. They were now comrades in a world-wide group of men who had gone before them.

All I knew was that he was my son and he would be the target of someone’s rifle or bomb.