I am hidden. To my classmates I am the class clown, goof-ball who doesn’t take life seriously. They don’t expect much from me but a joke, and I don’t expect much from them but a laugh. It is a fairly delicate relationship I work hard to maintain. They don’t know that behind the veil of my humor is a soldier waiting in agonizing patience to bring retribution on the evil men in this world. To them, I am a clown.

Someone asked me why I wanted to join the military. An answer came to my mind. There are people who think it acceptable to mutilate small children for being born into the wrong family. These sam people enjoy crashing airplanes into the World Trade Center and lighting bombs in their neighborhood markets. I want to join the military to eliminate these people from the planet. The answer went through my mind in an instant, but it would most certainly get me strange looks from my peers. I figured “to blow stuff up” would be a more acceptable answer -- it earned my a chuckle and a nod.

Why can I not explain my true motives for joining the service? People have forgotten September 11, 2001. People don’t want to know about terrorists planning the destruction of western civilization. People want to see someone who has no cares in the world. For now that is who I am. I am just the clown.