ZGram - 9/7/2004 - "Number 832"

[zgrams at zgrams.zundelsite.org]

ZGram - Where Truth is Destiny:  Now more than ever!

September 7. 2004

Good Morning from the Zundelsite:

This is one heartbreak letter:

Take a look at this photo, and then ask your self "Why?" 
http://www.truthout.org/docs_04/090604A.shtml

Friday 03 September 2004 Sgt. Campbell requested that, if something 
happened to him, his family place this photo on his coffin.

     To Whom it May Concern,

     I found out that my brother, Sergeant Ryan M. Campbell, was dead 
during a graduate seminar at Emory University on April 29, 2004. 
Immediately after a uniformed officer knocked at my mother's door to 
deliver the message that broke her heart, she called me on my cell 
phone. She could say nothing but "He's gone." I could say nothing but 
"No." Over and over again we chanted this refrain to each other over 
the phone as I made my way across the country to hold her as she wept.

     I had made the very same trip in February, cutting classes to 
spend my brother's two weeks' leave from Baghdad with him. Little did 
I know then that the next time I saw him would be at Arlington 
National Cemetery. During those days in February, my brother shared 
with me his fear, his disillusionment, and his anger. "We had all 
been led to believe that Iraq posed a serious threat to America as 
well as its surrounding nations," he said. "We invaded expecting to 
find weapons of mass destruction and a much more prepared and 
well-trained Republican Guard waiting for us. It is now a year later, 
and alas, no weapons of mass destruction or any other real threat, 
for that matter."

     Ryan was scheduled to complete his one-year assignment to Iraq on 
April 25. But on April 11, he emailed me to let me know not to expect 
him in Atlanta for a May visit, because his tour of duty had been 
involuntarily extended. "Just do me one big favor, ok?" he wrote. 
"Don't vote for Bush. No. Just don't do it. I would not be happy with 
you."

     Last night, I listened to George W. Bush's live, televised speech 
at the Republican National Convention. He spoke to me and my family 
when he announced, "I have met with parents and wives and husbands 
who have received a folded flag, and said a final goodbye to a 
soldier they loved. I am awed that so many have used those meetings 
to say that I am in their prayers and to offer encouragement to me. 
Where does strength like that come from? How can people so burdened 
with sorrow also feel such pride? It is because they know their loved 
one was last seen doing good. Because they know that liberty was 
precious to the one they lost. And in those military families, I have 
seen the character of a great nation: decent, and idealistic, and 
strong."

     This is my reply: Mr. President, I know that you probably still 
"don't do body counts," so you may not know that almost one thousand 
U.S. troops have died doing what you told them they had to do to 
protect America. Ryan was Number 832. Liberty was, indeed, precious 
to the one I lost-- so precious that he would rather have gone to 
prison than back to Iraq in February. Like you, I don't know where 
the strength for "such pride" on the part of people "so burdened with 
sorrow" comes from; maybe I spent it all holding my mother as she 
wept. I last saw my loved one at the Kansas City airport, staring 
after me as I walked away. I could see April 29 written on his sad, 
sand-chapped and sunburned face. I could see that he desperately 
wanted to believe that if he died, it would be while "doing good," as 
you put it. He wanted us to be able to be proud of him. Mr. 
President, you gave me and my mother a folded flag instead of the 
beautiful boy who called us "Moms" and "Brookster." But worse than 
that, you sold my little brother a bill of goods. Not only did you 
cheat him of a long meaningful life, but you cheated him of a 
meaningful death. You are in my prayers, Mr. President, because I 
think that you need them more than anyone on the face of the planet. 
But you will never get my vote.

     So to whom it may concern: Don't vote for Bush. No. Just don't do 
it. I would not be happy with you.

     Sincerely,
     Brooke M. Campbell
     Atlanta, GA