RELUCTANT HERO

Monday is back again. "I" and I hit the floor at four but was greeted only by silence. But I know she awaits me, Miss Monday. Hopefully with promises of a good week. "I" walked around a few minutes, listened with her ears up straight and tall. But like me she heard nothing. Refusing to go outside she promptly went back to the bed with The Emperor. Leaving me alone with this keyboard and not many ideas. This routinely is a a problem I encounter.

So as I sit sipping my hot chocolate. The coffee isn't brewed yet. I will try in a few words to tell you what really is on my mind. I have tried to think of a funny story. Or something catchy to write about. But my mind keeps coming back to "Sixty Minutes," I watched on television last night. They interviewed a young man born in 1985 Which now makes him twenty-five years old. A kid, just starting out in life. The difference with this young man and many others the same age. He is getting ready to receive "The Medal of Honor." The highest award given and approved by the President himself. There will be four given. The first passed out since the Vietnam war. Out of the four he is the only living recipient.

He broke down in tears several times during the interview. He would turn his head, his voice catching. "This seems unreal," he said. His eyes filling with tears, his voice breaking. "I am not a hero," he whispered. "I was doing what a hundreds of others were doing." The pain you could audibly hear in his voice.

Salvatore A. Giunta and his unit were in caught in Taliban fire in 2007. The enemy making a arrow shape around them, they opened fire. They had few places to hide. Other units were too far away to respond for help. Many were wounded. Salvatore seen one of his friends take five shots, he tried to get closer to him. Then in horror saw two of the enemy pick him up and start carrying him away. There was too much enemy fire for anyone to save him. But Salvatore did. Jumping to his feet, running into the melee, firing his gun as he run. He scrambled towards his friend, shooting the enemy as here ran. One went down, the other ran away. Salvatore and by then another buddy got to the wounded man. They tended to him as they waited for help. Talking to him, telling him that he would be alright. He died later that night at a hospital. But he died surrounded by his fellow comrades, not tortured more and left to die alone at the hands of the enemy.

This happened in 2007. It was announced in September 2010 that there would be four "Medals of Honor," given. The other three lost their lifes during the actions of their bravery. This young man with the haunted eyes and the scars he carries in his mind will be receiving his Medal as the only living recipient. I heard on the program last night that there is only seventy-eight living recipients left with this honor.

They asked him how he could have run into that torrent of bullets, straight into their midst. He looked at the man who was interviewing him. "They were carrying away my friend. I could not let that happen. What else could I have done."

This young man touched my heart. We all go about our daily life's, complaining of all our little aches and pains. Our grievances against the world and how we feel unfairly treated. "Why me," we grumble as we plod along. And at the very same time we have hundreds of our young men and women coming home from daily terror. trying to pick up their life's while they are haunted by scenes that will never go away. He doesn't think he is a hero. He doesn't think he deserves any special treatment. He is haunted by the memory of his dying friend, as he knelt beside him. Whispering to him, "You will be okay. We'll get you fixed up. You'll have stories to tell someday." But only those who survived that terror filled day are left to tell the story. And they all tell of one young man. Who at the sight of his wounded friend being carried away, jumped and ran into enemy fire, to save his friend. I'm not a hero," he kept saying. Yes young man you surely are.

I am troubled as I walk towards the outskirts of Blogland, my mind keeps going back to that young man. I wonder after three years if he is able to sleep the night through yet without the sights and sounds of that war terrorizing him through the night. I doubt it. So I make my way towards home. "Thank-you all," I whisper. And for another day, I'm outta here.

The statement from The White House on the Medal of Honor awards.

Then-Specialist Salvatore A. Giunta distinguished himself by acts of gallantry at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a rifle team leader with Company B, 2d Battalion (Airborne), 503d Infantry Regiment during combat operations against an armed enemy in the Korengal Valley, Afghanistan on October 25, 2007. When an insurgent force ambush split Specialist Giunta's squad into two groups, he exposed himself to enemy fire to pull a comrade back to cover. Later, while engaging the enemy and attempting to link up with the rest of his squad, Specialist Giunta noticed two insurgents carrying away a fellow soldier. He immediately engaged the enemy, killing one and wounding the other, and provided medical aid to his wounded comrade while the rest of his squad caught up and provided security. His courage and leadership while under extreme enemy fire were integral to his platoon's ability to defeat an enemy ambush and recover a fellow American paratrooper from enemy hands.[23]