Upset Girlfriend lets Rumsfeld know

Donald H. Rumsfeld Secretary of Defense 1000 Defense Pentagon Washington, DC 20301-1000 Dear Secretary Rumsfeld: At this moment, my boyfriend is waiting to board a plane at Ft. Drum, NY that will take him and his NY Army National Guard colleagues to Kuwait. In a couple of weeks, they’ll convoy in to the region of Northern Iraq where they will be stationed for another year. They were activated in May of 2004, and have been languishing after their initial training period, on base, for the past seven months. Their ‘boots on the ground’ one year tour of duty doesn’t even start until they land in Kuwait, and as we all know, may well be extended at the behest of this administration. If he serves just a year, he will have been away from home for 19 months. National Guard. Not regular army. I’m grateful of the steak and eggs breakfast afforded every soldier prior to departing on that flight today, since realistically, it might be the last meal they can enjoy safely. It might as well be a memorable one. Very magnanimous, that. Until now, they’ve been limited to one ‘breakfast meat’ in the mess hall in the morning….God forbid we give our soldiers a sausage patty AND a rasher of bacon….so I’m sure they’ll remember this breakfast a while. Juice. I hope there was at least juice. I consider myself luckier than many left behind. After all, at this point, Paul is still alive. That’s a bonus. We’ve had almost six very happy years together. That’s more than a lot of people. We don’t have children and so at least I don’t have to explain to little ones where Daddy is and why. Lord above knows the politicians haven’t been able to explain it to the public coherently. We do have a small home together in a very rural area of upstate NY, which is half torn apart due to construction work we were doing ourselves when ‘the call’ came. There isn’t sheet rock on the walls in half of the house, just roll-out insulation – but hey, I have a roof over my head. It’ll get finished as and when, God willing, he returns. Speaking of roofs, I hope he has one in the mess hall where he’s going. I understand it’s an Air Force base, so there’s some hope the amenities might be a little more sophisticated than the Army is usually used to. I’d feel better if he wasn’t cowering under a tent in fear of incoming grenades while he’s receiving three squares a day from the Halliburton subsidiary… He just called. There is juice! Uncle Sam came through again. And atropine injectors...(I think those are for chemical attacks.) He said there’s a long line for the breakfast and they’ll be boarding in an hour – doesn’t know when he’ll speak to me again. I hope he gets served before getting on the plane, it’s a long trip. It was tough to talk to him with a lump in my throat and trying to hide teary eyes from my colleagues. Didn’t want him to hear my voice breaking up. Here’s a really disappointing thought. If surveyed, I can guarantee most Americans wouldn’t know where to find Iraq on the map. I have one pinned to my cubicle wall so that I know exactly where Paul is, and where the trouble spots are. I’ve got them highlighted in yellow, but they’re joining together in one big splodge, now. The only reason people are taking any notice in your war now is in the mounting casualties of soldiers and Iraqis alike. Though selfishly, I have to admit it’s the tally of dead soldiers that sticks in my mind, (1356 as I write). Anyway Mr. Rumsfeld, thanks for your time. I just want you to know how utterly sick I am to my stomach, and in my heart. This will last as long as Paul’s deployment does, and until the rest of our soldiers are brought home. I really don’t want to hear from you. With all due respect, I’ve heard more than enough, and none of it has ever made sense. The President’s office already sent me one of those ‘thank you for your sacrifice’ standard letters a couple of months ago, when I complained about the burgeoning quagmire we’ve created in Iraq, so please don’t feel compelled to respond. I trust you are safe, warm, well-fed (perhaps even indulging in two breakfast meats on occasion), and that your daily life and those of your loved ones are never interrupted to this degree, or cut short, for a reason you never agreed with, never understood and never voted for. Sincerely, Alison Esperance, NY