I remember a pimple faced, rail skinny 18 year old boy, that had just graduated high school. He married his pregnant high school sweetheart, and was expecting his first child, a son in September. I talked him into going into the Army, because really, he wasn't college material. Around here, the only untrained jobs are construction or working in a trailer plant. Work all week, and stay drunk on the weekends, and I wanted better for him than that. On September 2, 2001, his son was born, and he was in Basic training at Ft Leonardwood, Mo. On September 11, 2001, when the second plane hit, I knew that we were at war, and that I had sent him to die. And he hadn't even met his son yet. He did get to meet him, and he and his young bride moved to Germany, but soon divorced, because he was deployed, and she wanted to go home. 10 years and 3 more tours later, his son is 10, and they barely know each other. He has remarried and has a beautiful daughter that is 4, and a wonderful wife, that is there for him. He is also being discharged from the Army, because of his back being gone from 4 tours worth of carrying his gear, and PTSD. So now Mama worries about the rest of his life, being disabled at 28 years old. How will his marriage last if she has to be the breadwinner? Will his depression make him interolable to be around? And he is still jaded, he says "Mama, don't worry, the VA will take care of me". It never ends.