Waiting for Victory
We have struck back. Waiting is all that's left for ordinary people. We wait for good news and victory. Or we wait for bad news and disaster. It depends upon what we've seen before and what we believe. I don't mean this as a criticism of President Bush's action against Afganistan. I think our measured response is necessary to maintain a stable and peaceful world. Yet I think, every war known to humankind has been judged by religion to be either a holy war or an exercise in revenge. In this case, it's tough not to be filled with vengence. But we also know the world has turned eerie in the past month. Now nothing but war is certain, nothing else matters. A month ago we were making plans for our next vacation. Now, wrapped in dread, we are wondering how to make our homes more secure. All wars fill us with the same terror. The air raids of World War II are not that far in the past. I remember my family sitting in the pitch-black living room of a tiny house in Nora Springs, Iowa, peeking out the filmy curtains at the darkened streets. When the siren sounded at the town hall, all the lights in that small village were extinguished. Street lights were doused and everything was dark except for a shaft of light coming from Mrs. Dane's kitchen across the street and two doors down. It's funny how one bright tube of light will cut through darkness and lodge in your memory forever. I've never again heard such silence. There was no noise but the breathing of my mother and father and two brothers, one older and one just an infant. And then we could hear a walking brigade of volunteers coming down the center of the street outside our home. I can still see the flashlights but there was no talking until they saw Mrs. Dane's home. Most of the men kept walking straight down the main drag toward the edge of town, but one man went toward the light. In a minute we could hear the volunteer pounding on Mrs. Dane's door and then we heard him give her a brisk scolding. Her lights went out and there was silence again. "When will the airplanes come?" I asked my father during one raid. "I don't know," was his reply. Now radar tells us when the planes are coming and television orders us to be prudent and patriotic. We believe we know every strike, setback, and victory. Our involvement is the video at six and the commentary at ten. But in our hearts we know the real terror of war is just around the corner. We tolerate the fighting because we are convinced something good and decent will come of it. We believe every war gives birth to a better world. After dark last evening, I went for a walk around my neighborhood. It was a warm and quiet night in Minnesota. But the air was noisy, filled with airplanes depositing people in places of earnest business. I stood still and listened. I remembered the silence of those World War II air raids. "Noisy air is good," I thought. When the hubbub of commerce has been stilled, then we must hide. If that happens, faith will be our constant comfort. Clark D. Morphew Posted 10-9-01