The Things They Carried

The Things They Carried. "The things they carried were largely determined by necessity... To carry something was to "hump" it...What they carried was partly a function of rank, partly of field specialty...plus the unweighed fear... They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried...What they carried varied by mission... They all carried ghosts...The things they carried were determined to some extent by superstition...Some things they carried in common...They shared the weight of memory...They took up what others could no longer bear...Often they carried each other, the wounded or weak...They carried infections... They carried the land itself...the place, the soil...They carried the sky... They carried gravity... just humping...Because it was automatic....Their prinicples were in their feet... They carried their own lives....They would never be at a loss for things to carry."

"For the most part they carried themselves with poise, a kind of dignity...They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die...Greif, terror, love, longing...They carried their reputations....the blush of dishonor...By large they carried these things inside, maintaining the masks of composure..."

These are all the sentences run together from the piece that stuck out to me the most. They paint vivid pictures for the reader to understand what it was that they carried. They carried the unimaginable.

My dad's brother Bob died as a result of the vietnam war; because of Agent Orange. I was probably five or six at the time. Bone cancer slowly took him from us. It was the first time I ever saw my Father cry. Bob had a loving wife and children that cared for him. I know they miss him deeply. It took our family a long time to recover, as with most grieving. I can't imagine what my Uncle Bob went through, or what he carried during that war. But I must thank him for carrying what he did to save the lives of many other people. I also find myself stopping to thank the people that helped him carry burdens during the war. The brave men and women that were family to him during that time.

Thinking about the men and women that serve our country puts a knot in my stomach. I can't imaging how hard it must be. I am ashamed to say that I don't know if I could ever do it. I don't think my heart could take being away from my "Martha" so to speak. I could not handle seeing people around me fall boom-down. I could not handle memories. The things they carried.... I dont think I could carry.