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Margaret Marr Voice of a Soldier Those who have long enjoyed such privileges as we enjoy, forget in time that men have died to win them. ~FDR~ |
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The Ghosts of Daemon Yarborough Other Interests
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In the wake of 9/11, Americans were reborn into the unity that made this country so great. As the years have progressed, the rebirth of American unification has sadly slipped once again into political and partisian division, which is truly an insult to the men and women who've fought desperately for our country's rights and freedoms. Margaret Marr has produced an anthology that turns our focus away from politics and centers upon the very essence of what makes America the great nation it was destined to be...the heart of the American soldier. Without the brave men and women who have awakened and still awake each every morning to serve, protect, and defend our country, there would be no American Freedom. No voice, no dreams, and no choices. They have fought to preserve our voice and it's time that we listen to theirs. It's time for our soldiers to be heard, from the lowest rank to the highest rank. Voice of a Soldier is a conglomeration of true stories, fiction, and poetry that represent the acts of bravery, tears, laughter, love, and friendship of American soldiers from past battles to present battles. They will make you laugh, make you cry, make you proud, and make you think. Most of all, it exemplifies the true inspiration of the American soldier. May 2006 | ISBN: 0-9770050-2-X | Paperback: $15.99 Buy Your Copy Now! Sunpiper Publishing | Amazon.com All proceeds go to help: Operation First Response & Wounded Warriors
Voice of a Soldier Sample Story Desert Boomerang In 1991, as a shield was replaced by an angry storm, Saddam Hussein threatened America with the mother of all battles. In turn, President George Bush drew a line in the sand. That line was quickly wrapped around Iraq and used to choke the life out of thousands. As a U.S Army M.P., I was there when the Americans crossed the breach from Saudi Arabia into Iraq, crushing the first of three Iraqi lines of defense along the way. It was like someone had lifted the curtain to hell, giving everyone a free peek. It took four days, or a mere 100 hours, before the ground war was ceased. History was made. In triumph, Kuwait was liberated, while Hussein was humiliated before the whole world. An unconditional withdrawal was ordered. Politically, the sadistic demon was slain. In reality, unlike thousands of his own people, he still lived. Yet, with my introduction to the "Mystery Illness," the war was far from over. Two weeks after the last shots were fired, I was standing at a barren traffic control point in Iraq when a lone vehicle approached. It was American, so I waved it through. The driver pulled up to me and stopped. He was a black sergeant and from the look in his eyes, he was definitely lost. "Man, am I glad to see you!" he said with a nervous grin. "I lost my convoy in the dust storm that just passed through. I'm supposed to be on Main Supply Route Green, but..." I chuckled. The entire area was my patrol and I could have driven the roads in Iraq blindly. "You're not that far off," I confirmed. "Right now, you're on M.S.R. Blue, but this route runs parallel to M.S.R. Green. Keep south for the next four miles or so, and when you reach a fork in the road, you've met up with Green. " The sergeant's face showed relief and I was happy to help him. With a wave, he was on his way. I, on the other hand, returned to the boredom of the desert's miles and miles of solitary confinement. Several very unpleasant months passed. One afternoon, in base camp, my platoon sergeant Tony Rosini approached. "Hey kid, got any plans today?" "Yeah, I think I'll head to the mall," I joked. He chuckled. "In that case, you can give me a ride into Saudi Arabia. My knee's been acting up, so maybe they'll give me some pain killers. Either way, I could use the time away and from the look of it, so could you." My arm felt the twist. "Whose vehicle?" I asked. Tony never answered. He just slid into the passenger seat of his own, A Horse With No Name. We were making good time and traveled down the dusty road at a fast clip. We joked and laughed, with only 40 miles between us and the Saudi Arabian border. Before long, the radio traffic ceased. We were out of range. I noticed we were the only vehicle on the road since we left. I continued to scan the vast terrain to insure we were alone. There were still Republican Guard out on the loose, soldiers who came out of hiding during the dark hours. The farther we drove, though, the less it mattered. We were nearly an hour from safety. Several miles later, I slowed down. We'd hit a dust storm, a bad one. I could hardly see three feet past the windshield. In the blink of an eye, the blue sky turned a blinding orange, as the harsh winds of the open desert rearranged the landscape. With the help of hurricane winds, tons of sand leapt into the atmosphere and decided to fly around for awhile. Maneuvering the Hum-V right and left, I slowed down even more. The snake-shaped trail offered sharper corners. Squinting my eyes, I concentrated and drove on. Then the nightmare began. |
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bravenet.com
Voice of a Soldier:
Operation Liberty is an
anthology that captures the heartfelft stories of true
American heroes given to the audience in their own unique
and special voice. Stories in which the whole country is
in desperate need of hearing.