AMNA NAWAZ: Kevin Powers
signed up for the Army before
finishing high school and went
to basic training the
day after he graduated.
He was in Iraq for a year.
And when he returned home,
he managed to some of
what that experience was
like in his critically
praised novel "The
Yellow Birds."
Powers says it's hard to record
what you are truly thinking
and feeling in combat because,
in many ways, you
aren't doing either.
Much of the fighting happens
on instinct and adrenaline.
That's the situation so many
Americans still face and, in
Powers' Humble Opinion, what
we need to remember tonight.
KEVIN POWERS, Author,
"A Shout in the Ruins":
If you're watching this
today, perhaps you're
taking a break from a family
barbecue, or maybe you have
just returned from shopping
for some much needed item
that this weekend's sales
have allowed you to purchase.
I hope the extra time with your
loved ones is rewarding, and
the long weekend a satisfying
break from the challenges of
work, or school, or parenting.
But I humbly ask you to
consider the following.
Fourteen years ago, I spent
Memorial Day looking for IEDs
in and around the city of Mosul,
Iraq.
I had only been in country
for a couple of months.
My unit had not yet
suffered its first casualty.
But, as summer began, the
purple fingers of Iraqi citizens
casting their votes felt like
a cause worth facing
that danger for.
But, soon enough,
something shifted.
Attacks increased in
both intensity and
frequency over the summer.
And by the time autumn came
around, several members of my
company had been wounded, some
seriously, and some terrifyingly
so, especially when you knew
you had to go back outside the
wire again the next day.
I will admit, I was scared
pretty much all of the time.
But I did my job to the best
of my ability, and I still
believed that we might all make
it home together.
But that's not how war goes.
Close to Christmas, as 2004
was coming to a close, our
unit lost two young men.
Their names were Sergeants
Nicholas Mason and David Ruhren.
They were both 20 years old.
I grieved for them and
their families then, and I
still grieve for them today.
And I would ask you to consider
the fact that since our current
wars began in 2001, as of
mid-May, there have been
6,957 others to grieve for.
Just a month ago, a young
man from Colorado was
killed in Afghanistan.
It's hard to believe that,
when I came home from Iraq
in 2005, he was 9 years old.
So, today, I would ask you
to take a moment to ask, how
many more names might be added
to the long list of those we
will be asked to remember next
year, and to also remember
the thousands of veterans,
actively serving men and women,
and grieving families, their
fallen brothers and sisters,
for whom Memorial Day doesn't
just fall on the last Monday in
May, but on every single day
of the rest of their lives.