Should we beef up our military and win the war in Afghanistan or should we pull out and bring our troops home?

Was yesterday’s tragic shootings at Fort Hood Army base — 13 have died and 30 more are injured — the work of a lone gunman or a coordinated act?

Do we even care any more about the veterans who have served this country so bravely and so selflessly throughout the years?

We have differing opinions on the war, but no American should not care about those who serve our country. Veteran’s Day is Wednesday, and we all need to stop and think about those who have chosen to defend our rights and our freedoms.

The following was posted in the Web site’s guest book of our sister newspaper, The Daily News of Bogalusa, at one time, and I thought it worthy of reprint in these times of war when our troops need so much of our support.

U.S. Military Man

The average age of the military man is 19 years.

He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances, is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.

He’s not yet “career oriented,” and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s; but he has never collected unemployment either.

He’s a recent high school graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a very used automobile and has a steady girlfriend that swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away — or maybe they split up before he left.

He listens to rock ‘n’ roll or hip-hop, maybe a little rap or blue grass … and 155mm Howitzers.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.

He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can fieldstrip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time — in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.

He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts.

If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.

He can save your life — or take it, because that is his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.

He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.

He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the national anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to “square-away” those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hat or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.

Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.

Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

Sandy Cunningham is publisher of L’Observateur. She can be reached at sandy.cunningham@wickcommunications.com