A Confirmed Kill

Last night, I learned that my younger brother has had a confirmed kill in Iraq. He's in the Marines and was deployed last September, and every time my mother or other brother calls I worry that it's to give me terrible news. Only when I hear them speaking normally do I breathe a sigh of relief.

I can't help but wonder about the man who died, or more specifically, about the family he left behind. Did he have a sister who dreaded her sibling going off to war, a sister like me? If so, what is she feeling now? Does his family even know what happened to him? I realized that it's not so much the man's death that troubles me, as it is the grief his family feels. Because if things had gone differently, it could have been, may one day be, my family and I struggling with overwhelming grief.

When I watch the news every evening, I am sickened to hear about the death tolls in Iraq, and I desperately hope that my brother wasn't one of the ones who died in that day's car bombings, roadside explosions or gun fights. To me, and most of America, the insurgents are nameless, faceless shadows, confirmed kill man included, and it's easy to forget that these men and women, misguided though they may be, are real people with real lives. To someone, confirmed kill man was a brother, father, son or husband, and the realization that MY brother has killed someone else's brother, causing my worst nightmare to became a reality for someone else, makes me uneasy.

That being said, better him than my brother, better his family than ours. That may be selfish, that may be wrong, but that is how I feel.