New on SixSeeds.tv today, by David:
One weekend a month, I get up extremely early in the morning, put on one of my uniforms from my tour in Iraq, and go to the reserve center in Nashville to fulfill my military obligations. After our physical training, I go out to breakfast on Sunday morning with my friends in our unit… all in uniform, of course, and typically go to McDonald’s. There, we eat a country ham and biscuit, sip coffee, and share war stories since almost all of us have been to Iraq.
Every weekend, as sit and chat, someone invariably comes up to us and thanks us for our service.
But one Sunday morning was different. We were finishing our biscuits and about to get up, when an older man rolled up in an electric wheelchair. He looked reasonably healthy and reasonably fit, except he had one leg. He positioned himself in front of our table, put out his hand, introduced himself, and said, “Thanks for your service.” I gave my standard response (“my privilege”) and started to to leave. But he didn’t move.
“You boys have been to war.” He motioned towards our right arms, which bear the combat patches signifying we’ve been “downrange” to Iraq or Afghanistan. “Mind if I tell a war story?”
They didn’t. Read the rest of the story here.