I loved this country once. Wore its uniform. Carried its flag and weapons and foreign policy on my shoulders. Drove its trucks down crowded roads. Tromped its heavy boots through burning towns. Arrested and beat people, breathed in dangerous chemicals, took rocks to the face and neck and was even bitten once. For eight years, I did everything you asked of me. But I said goodbye to all that when it became apparent we were nothing more than plastic soldiers being pushed around a sand box by a petulant child, that you supported us by putting yellow magnets on your SUVs, that we meant nothing to you.
