The Lost Battalion and Acceptable Losses in War

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BANG, BOOM, BLAM,TAT-A-TAT, TAT. My ears are assaulted with noise, my eyes witness squirting blood a soldier is shot. I observe soldiers blown away by bombs. I see blood that saturates an infantry man. I view maimed men and observe limbs with fragmented bone. I witness militia dead on the ground. I listen to screams, grunts and gurgling blood in a man's windpipe. WHOOSH, flame throwers make a path with flames blazing burning men instantaneously. My eyes reveal the emotion that rips through my heart, tears drip down my cheek. I turn my head. I cannot watch a soldier cradle his buddy as he dies. The Great war is in full rage. The Generals are commanding the war and they are discussing acceptable losses as they plan and strategize the next move into battle. The battle of Argonne Forest is started. That phrase strikes me as I listen to the movie. What are acceptable losses? I research the words and I find the meaning of the phrase. It is a euphemism for men killed in combat. It is a pleasant way to say x amount of men will get killed in order to mount an offensive in battle, to achieve a military objective. My reaction to that expression is no! There should not be any acceptable losses. For what purpose does this fulfill? Why so much sacrifice, why so much senseless loss of: friends, fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons? At what point does this couch something unacceptable? It is beyond me to answer those questions. I cannot understand why there has to be war, and such phrases as acceptable losses. I do not think that anyone's sacrifice should be referred to so callously. Men die. That it is war, however one should not call their death acceptable, tragic perhaps, but never ever allowable. Although most readers will... ... middle of paper ... ..., and I know I will favor the protection of our nation's military. Incidentally, as I write this paper I gaze upon a framed picture of a man. Over the right shoulder in the background is a blue field with silver stars behind his right shoulder. In juxtaposition behind his left shoulder is a field of red containing a pattern of gold and silver. His cover is stark white, precisely in the middle a gold eagle globe and anchor symbol. Determined blue eyes gaze back at me. His mouth set with resolve. His uniform, deep blue trimmed in red. Gold buttons run down the center. The leather neck fastened tight with two gold eagle globe and anchors on either side of the closure. A United States Marine stares back at me and I weep because some general, some officer one day may consider my son to be an acceptable loss. Works Cited The Lost Battalion, Hank Jackson, 2001

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