Marine Sergeant Frank Praytor feeds a 2-week-old kitten named Miss Hap after her mother had been killed during a mortar attack in Korea, 1953.
I know what it's like saving a 2-week old kitten. There were so many worries about how it would grow up, learn to eat, defecate, socialize. Then there's the nagging thought of why I was so stupid to do it in the first place. Considering that my parents would have to help me care for it, I wasn't in the position to simply bring home a kitten out of the blue.
Sgt Praytor was, more than I was, not in a position to do what he did. I never knew my love for cats would have had the effect of creating this humane link between myself and a soldier on the battleground years ago in the thick of the Cold War.
It made me realize how real these people are. That they're not just cold statistics we read of soldiers deployed, soldiers fallen, soldiers traumatized. They're real, full, vulnerable. Each a individual, some of which would have joined in to care for my kitten.
How they survive from a war, maintain that sense of humanity, I can't imagine. May God bless the souls of the fallen and grant grace and peace to those still fighting.
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