June 11, 2008 08:24 am
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Entering our clinic I had to duck to avoid the quick moving object streaking towards my head. I wasn’t certain if it was a wasp or a bat, but I knew for sure that I didn’t want whatever it was landing on me.
Our clinic has a screened-in patio across the front of the building which holds supplies and provides a shady place for people to congregate without having to step out into the direct heat of the desert sun. I had just stepped into the screened-in section when I saw a black and white barn swallow trapped inside, desperately trying to find his way to freedom.
He darted quickly from one end of the porch to the other, each time failing to find an exit. Frantically the bird would smash into the screen and was obviously becoming tired. He was stuck and had no way out. Numerous people had seen this creature struggling, yet no one cared or took the time to offer assistance. There was no liberation from what would have ultimately resulted in certain death for the bird had I not taken the time to help him get free.
My deployment to Afghanistan has subjected me to extremes in life. Extremes in weather, from the harsh winter winds of December to the scorching summer dust storms of June. Extremes in emotion, while holding a child in my arms who suffered from severe burns, to gazing into the eyes of an elderly gentleman as he quietly slipped from this life. I have experienced this region up close and in person.
My world for the past several months has been reduced in size geographically to an area smaller than the old 200-acre family farm in Lloyd, Fla. Back home, I think nothing of making the drive to Lakeland for an afternoon of fishing on Banks Lake. I don’t give a second thought to driving up to Barney and indulging in a cup of peach ice cream from one of the stands at the crossroads.
Freedom to move from one place to another is a blessing. My limited daily movement here feels more like that of a dog on a long leash than that of a horse able to graze and wander at will. It is a confining sensation; one of being trapped with no way out.
Freedom to move without fear is not something I, nor the people of Afghanistan, have been able to experience for some time now. I miss that feeling of freedom. It’s important folks back home hear about our fight for freedom, including the good things we have done and the good things we are doing. Our sacrifices are meaningful and worthwhile. We are tearing down the “traps.”
The six o’clock news often reports on events, which focus on the negative and routinely portray our initiatives as futile and insignificant in terms of winning the Global War on Terrorism. On any given day, news stations are consumed with stories of sadness, grief and despair. Yet not a single reporter from any major network has called me nor anyone I know in the past six months for our side of the story.
No one has ever visited with me or has the foggiest idea of what really goes on every day in a deployed airman, Marine, soldier or sailor’s duty day. If they had asked, I could have easily told them volumes about heroic accomplishments performed by servicemen and women who proudly answered their nation’s call and performed with dignity, honor and valor.
I’ve heard stories of those receiving “Dear John” letters. I’ve seen the worry on the faces of fathers and mothers concerned over their loved one’s uncertain medical conditions. Yet each one has persevered through their own trials and tribulations with professionalism and pride.
They are selfless warriors deserving of a pat on the back and front page acknowledgement. Debates over landfills and equestrian centers, while valid, don’t tell the important story of our fight for freedom. I appreciate The Valdosta Daily Times’ willingness to allow me to share a part of that story.
We are making a definite difference here. Our initiatives matter as we endeavor to help these people overcome years of brutal oppression. Every day simple acts of kindness are bestowed upon a society whose people, like seeds in freshly tilled soil with a spring rain, begin to flourish, providing a future they can look forward to. All they need is someone to take the time to help them see the way out. All they need is a helping hand to lift them out of their confines and show them the way to freedom.
The bird trapped on the front porch was breathing heavily. I knew that if I wasn’t careful, I could cause more harm than good so I waited, watched and pondered.
Eventually the bird calmed down and after several tries with an inverted mop I was able to corral the swallow and carefully direct him to an opening in the screen where he finally darted through and was gone.
My tour here has come to an end. I will be home soon, and I will never forget the accomplishments of the men and women I served with and the people of Afghanistan we were able to help. All we had to do was take the time to notice and take the time to care.
I appreciate all of the support over the past several months in the form of care packages, e-mails and prayers.
In closing, I would like to wish everyone an early happy Father’s Day and to dedicate these past six months worth of journalism to my father, the late Morgan B. Laffitte, Lieutenant Colonel, United States Air Force. I miss you Dad.
Warmest Regards,
Greg Laffitte
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