"Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and..."

A small excerpt from Tennyson to set the mood. I've already hinted at the fact that my companions on this venture vex me greatly by talking too loud, walking too slow, and never arriving at any decision without first arguing out the valid points of all imaginable sides in subcommittee. I am not part of a committee, nor shall I ever be, I hope. I'm used to finding my own way in this world through trial and error, learning from my experiences. Thus going everywhere amidst a throng, and being subject to their little bouts of whimsy does not entertain my soul for long. But read on, for I discuss this further in the third entry.

Entry III- Day 4
21:47
Trying to catch up on homework in the dorm

Sunday night after returning from Heidelberg I sat in the dorm kitchen as the people around me debated far into the twilight hours. They argued and fought, equivocated and quibbled, all over…. what is true. They speculated upon the validity of the terror attacks of September 11. They scoffed at their perceived grounds for the Iraq War. They cleverly disproved the assassination of Lincoln. They boldly guessed upon why the Indians didn’t kill the Jamestown settlers. And so on.

To say they discussed these things is in inaccurate. They dissected them. They ripped them open haphazardly and completely at random, butchering topics like a cadaver thrown to the most desperate of dogs. They spoke passionately; yet arrogantly, with almost complete knowledge of things they have little or no knowledge themselves, yet speak as if it were a verbatim eyewitness account. A pretension to understanding is always tedious, so I sat quietly and thought to myself.

Eventually, the memory of my flight came back to me. I sat next to a Black Hawk Crew Chief named Logan who had lived his entire life in West Palm Beach. He admitted himself to be simple and relatively unenlightened: he had dropped out of community college after one semester and joined the army.

Yet he was a smarter and wiser man than any of us around that table that night, for he controlled truth for himself. He held no pretense over knowledge, watched no news or political television shows, and yet was fully involved in the world he was regularly in contact with.

He knew his surroundings and situation intimately, and had no real desire to know anything else.
He knew that the best place to sleep in Iraq while on duty is underneath one of the helicopters, yet that you had to be careful not to leave your feet outside, unless you like having sunburn for a week.
He knew how to run and maintain his birds in the harsh desert conditions of Iraq so that they were in top fighting shape despite the frequent sandstorms.
He knew that the American effort in Iraq was more successful than some people would admit, with roads, schools, and other infrastructure programs that were far more advanced than anyone had heard.

But most of all was that everything he knew, he knew because he had lived amongst it all. He was a soldier, and he was proud. And no matter what anyone else said, no one could take away that feeling of truth, like an eternal flame in his mind. He couldn’t have known it for himself, but it was there just the same.

Some say it is foolish to live in a world without questioning it, without testing the boundaries that are set upon us. Yet if one can live with the contentment of accepting some points as true, then where is the point? It is from a lack of wisdom that fools challenge truths that they themselves cannot possibly influence. Better to let ancient secrets and fell deeds to lie in their still coffins, or risk arousing them anew. Our vain talk does them little good.

As I continue my travels throughout Germany with this feckless pack of ingrates, I cannot help but compare them to my friend from the plane. My companions complain about the tedium of the classes, the state of our dorms, the times of the classes, even the neighborhood where the administrators of the Mannheim University have been good enough to give us rooms. They mock and scoff at the advice and wisdom of our professor, who has more experience than anyone else on this trip. Such comments, along with condescending remarks, accompany me whenever I go anywhere with them. One of the girls presumed to lecture me on manners as I rose to leave the table in the student cafeteria before everyone was finished. But I consider the pleasantries are to be observed for those who show that they deserve them, and not scurrilous knaves such as these.

In contrast, the soldier was, as some would say, “in touch with his present situation.” He understood the reality, in its very essence, of the world around him: some of it would be ugly, some of it would be cruel, but he could survive. As a soldier he was trained for this, not to be incessantly questioning the fairness or justice of his lot, but to find a way to live in spite of it all. As for me, I’m a simple gentleman of fortune. I shall blow wither she will take me, and pursue “that flighty temptress,” Adventure, to the farthest shores. So as such was his decision, so it is mine.