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His flight to Chicago is delayed. The day after Exodus day, he is beginning his first leave in the St. Louis airport. Twenty-five, he is just beginning his career in the U.S. Army.

“Where will you be stationed,” I ask.

“Korea, sir,” he replies unable to break himself from military discipline even when speaking to those in military clothes.

“A lot worse places.”

“I know, sir. I know.”

Our conversation is filled with starts and stops between times I read a book and he watches the planes land and take off.

His final destination is Raleigh, North Carolina where he will show off to his family his uniform with freshly polished shoes. He is making something of his life, making a contribution and the pride gives his face a glow. No longer will he be what he was six weeks ago; now, he is a proud member of the United States military. He will protect my freedom, engage the enemy and if need be lay down his life for the country.

Odd, how we honor him. We are given two choices. The first is a gun-ho supports the troops, but it can only be done by strict allegiance to national policy and popularity of leaders. Any question of policy or leader is an abandonment of the men and women in uniform. The second is to mock them. Believe ignorance, poverty or bad luck forced them to enter the military. Look down upon them and their value of duty as if it were an idea of a bygone era or a lesser mind.

While those two options rage for control in America, the men and women in the military work with little pay, poor housing, and when in combat equipped not with the most up to date safety equipment, but with Vietnam era surplus. Our elected leaders do not try to solve problems, but bicker. The citizens are barely better. As I watch him patiently waiting for his flight filled with pride and deserved self-respect, I ask don’t we owe them more?

“If Kim-Jong Il starts shooting keep your head down.” I offer my hand as my plane boards.

“Will do, sir. Will do.”

The best we have, let’s not waste him.