I wondered if the president had shrunk.  He usually seems so tall, almost absurdly lanky.  A thin tree that bobbles around, whispering, whistling and amusing.  No, of course he hadn’t shrunk.

            ACUs (Army Combat Uniforms) make everyone look small.  I remember my time spent at Fort Benning, GA, my uniform always looked more like it was draped over my wire-hanger body than actually worn.  I soon came to realize that we all looked that way in our uniforms; we even made the civilians on the base look that way in their own clothing.  It was as though the uniform had some sort of diminishing effect on the stature of every human body.  Maybe I’m not tall to begin with, but in that uniform I looked like a child.

            President Obama stands there in that picture in his suit and it looks too big for him.  The soldier’s sand-colored boots swoop by him like something from a cartoon.  I remember those boots, they wear out so easily.  On your knees in the barracks, cleaning, dusting, making beds – the suede, whatever it is, wears clean through and you look like you have a big white blotch on the toe of your boot.

In Fort Benning it’s still and hot during the summer.  The heat gets up under your sleeves and makes your arms that much heavier.  Attention, at-ease, attention, don’t lock your knees.  President Obama almost looks like he’s locking his knees in the picture.  It’s out of nervousness for perfection that we did it.  Straight and over-perfect.

The lights are harsh, they should be focused on a space shuttle pre-launch, but instead they’re focused on the dozens of teenage bodies and the drill sergeant.  His eyes are as heavy as ours, his libido just as crushed.  He’s been over three times now?   15 x 3 = 45 months of overseas deployment.  He snaps, he mocks, he stutters and sends us back inside.

            We have been at war for awhile now.  I don’t count the years any more.  I just say awhile.  It’s less precise but maybe at the same time more accurate.

            At one time I was known as Specialist Joshua James.  But I’ve been known as more than a few colorful things in my life.  Unpatriotic, coward, not in line with the founding fathers are more recent developments.  Maybe.

            I always hated the way our ACUs would stretch when we’d salute at attention.  The right side would pull up and I always felt exposed.  The flag would always be coming up on our way back from breakfast at the mess.  If we could see it, we stopped, we saluted for as long as it took to get the flag raised.
            “That thing is more beautiful than my wife.” 
             I asked the private how his wife felt about that.           
          “She understands.”

            Maybe I’m not in line with the founding fathers.  Maybe I do deserve to have “a gun pointed in my face” so I won’t go to the polls and vote for the status quo, as I was told by one of the angry Glenn Beckistas.  Maybe I don’t love my country like I should if I’m no longer willing to do violence in its name.  Maybe my pacifistic atheistic tendencies are just not right for a militaristic nation with strong theism.  Maybe.

            Seeing that picture, I felt sorry for the president.  He probably wondered how long he had to stand at attention like that.  When it was appropriate to drop the salute.  To adjust his mandatory American flag lapel pin.  To say a word.  To turn his focus.  To move his eyes. 

To move his hands before they locked at his sides.