“Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity. Faithfulness and truth are the most sacred excellences and endowments of the human mind.” - Marcus Tullius Cicero Semper fidelis.   Two words at the end of an email sent from a student, a student who in just a few short weeks heads out to Iraq.   The date, circled in red on the calendar, quickly approaches.  It was just a few short weeks ago when he first mentioned it, when he first told me he was leaving before the end of the semester and would it be possible for him to take his final early.  He wanted to finish the course.  Would I make an exception?  Would I be willing to adjust my schedule?

I asked him how he felt about leaving.  I wondered if he was scared, if he was having second thoughts.  I wondered, because I cannot imagine being in his shoes.

I think about the men at the shelter.  Men who carry the diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Men who, like my young student, went off one day to serve this country only to return forever changed.  Men who now use the weekly writing group as a way to heal their memories of time spent in service to this country.

When I was in middle school I wore a POW bracelet.  The bracelets, made to honor the POWs and MIAs of the Vietnam War, became a symbol of our generation.  The intention was to wear the bracelet until the soldier came home . It was a symbol of connection.  A symbol of support.  A way of staying faithful, to the man, to his commitment and to the hope that someday he would return.   Sometimes you got lucky and your guy came home.  Sometimes he did not.  Lt. Col. Donald F. Casey, whose name was engraved on my bracelet, was a United States Air Force pilot who was shot down over North Vietnam.  He was 42 years old.  He was one of the unlucky ones.

A few years later, Mr. Woodward, our seventh grade teacher, gave us an assignment to debate the My Lai massacre.  At issue was the question about whether Lieutenant William Calley acted appropriately when he led his platoon into the South Vietnamese village of My Lai, wiping out everything in their path.  We were assigned sides and, after researching the topic, were encouraged to debate our point of view.

It was a memorable experience.  The arguments were passionate and the sides divided, even for a group of 12-13 year olds.  Emotions were high and even in the days that followed, remnants of the discussion remained.  It was the first time I recall realizing how polarizing different points of view could be.

He lagged behind, the other students having left the classroom already.  Packing his backpack, he paused a moment to answer my question.  “I’m ready,” he said.  “This is what I have been preparing for.  I am ready to go.”

Did he know what he would be doing?  “No,” he replied and I thought I noticed a momentary shift in his demeanor,  “I will do whatever they need me to do.”

I cannot pretend to know where he is about to go.  I cannot begin to understand the kind of commitment he has made, the decision to serve his country this way, to be always faithful, but I do respect him for it.

In the next few weeks while he is off at training preparing to be deployed, I will do whatever it takes to help him finish the work he began this semester.  And, as I did for Lt. Donald Casey many years ago, I will hope and pray that he stays safe and that one day, he will come home.

Semper fidelis.