Pop Music One, 21 Guns Dear Journal,

Pop Music

One, 21 Guns

Dear Journal,

Here I stand. Or lay. This will probably be my last entry. Judging from how pale my hand is, I'd say definitely my last entry. Unlike I have a little luck or some sort of miracle from above. What's that old saying? Oh, yeah. "There are no atheists in fox holes." Guess that's so. It's at our darkest that we ask for help even if we normally wouldn't admit to needing any kind of help, from the Almighty or anything else. So if you find this, please send this home. Send to Robert Markam, Sr., 4423 Twain St., Hannibal, MO.

Nothing's ever built to last

I'm bleeding pretty good out this wound on my leg and my make-shift tourniquet doesn't seem to be stopping the flow. I hope that whoever finds me actually reads these words. Only then will you understand why I did what I did. In case it isn't obvious, I've been shot in the leg and it feels like maybe somewhere in the upper quadrant too. I don't see a wound but feels like I've been hit in the back. I don't know how long I've been in this dune but I haven't seen anybody at all. Honestly, I really don't think they're coming for me.

You're in ruins.

I've been a soldier, officially, for a year although I was always supposed to be one. Dad was a soldier and so was grandpa and uncles. All males. All manly. No sissies. No cowards. I wanted to be just like him. Pop was like a G.I. Joe come to life. What would the old man say now? Pat me on the back no doubt. "Ya done good boy."

And your thoughts have taken their toll

After high school, I couldn't wait to join the army. A little home trouble put that off for about a year or so. Mom wasn't too thrilled. "You could get hurt or killed," she said. Oh mom, if only that were all. I bought into the propaganda and became one of the few good men the United States army is always looking for. Thanks Uncle Sam! I have been in Saudi Arabia for months now. Supposedly I am here in support of democracy and to protect the United States and its interests. It gets hard to remember these things on the day-to-day grind.

Do you know what's worth fighting for?

Granddad fought the Nazis in World War II. There was a clear good side and bad side. I think. Pop fought in Korea and 'Nam. Maybe that was a little less black and white, but he thought he was on the right side. Here?

When it's not worth dying for?

Is there a good and bad? We are told by the higher ups that Saddam Hussein is an evil man and that all his forces are working for evil. So they are evil right? But then I think probably there's a guy on the other side, also 24, also with a history of military surface, also who thinks he's serving his country. He thinks I'm the bad guy.

Lay down your arms, give up the fight

Maybe if we were actually fighting in Iraq. Is it the location that makes you feel you're doing right? Or maybe I just don't have it in me. Here's the thing. The other day was Thanksgiving. Anyone with a television knows that the President was here. I suppose he was trying to give the troops a pep talk or make us not give up hope or something. All I felt was hate. I hated this wrinkled old man for making me stay here when I don't know why. Iraq attacks Kuwait so the U.S. goes to Saudi Arabia? What the hell sense does that make?

Your faith walks on broken glass.

After the incident, I ran. I couldn't face it. They'd probably cheer for me when I got back. I don't wanna be cheered for what I did. I & #8230;.do…getting a little woozie.