Boots splash through the water. Rain falls in torrents. Sweat drips from the men’s creased foreheads.
Their muscles tense as they take their positions. Silently, without a move and with hardly a breath, they crouch, waiting. Their uniforms and absolute stillness hide them from the enemy’s notice.
Tethered to their boots is a small metal identification tag. An identical copy dangles from each man’s neck. Inscribed on the tag is a social security number, the full name of the bearer, his birthdate and professed religion.
I too have a tag. Each of my siblings and I were given one at a visit to a local veterans museum. The owner explained as he handed us the small shiny metal tags that every soldier in the American army had two.
Whether they are a cadet or a general, every soldier is required to wear their tag at all times. They are not allowed to take it off, not even for a shower! Without their identity tag, they are considered out of uniform, unable to do their job and worthy of punishment.
My tag is just a replica. My name is not inscribed on it; just the name of the museum.
But what I learned from that tag is what’s really important.
Continue reading on The Rebelution.