Major Andy Olmsted, a U.S. Army Reservist, active-duty military blogger for the blog Obsidian Wings and writer of the popular blog, "From the Front Lines," for the Rocky Mountain News, was killed Thursday, January 3, 2008 in As Adiyah in the Diyala Province of Iraq.  Olmsted worked as an advisor for the Iraqi army and was killed when insurgents attacked their unit with small arms fire during combat operations.

What makes Major Olmsted's death stand out from almost 4,000 others lost in the Iraq war is that he had written a final post way back in July, and had submitted it to his editor, Hillzoy, under his log-on name of G'Kar Babylon 5, to be published in the event of his death. 

I had not read other postings of Olmsted's, and I intend to respect his last wishes that his final post not be used for political purposes on either side of the war debate, and I would ask my commenters to respect that, as well.  What I want to do instead is draw attention to some of the final paragraphs in this incredible piece of eloquent writing, because it reminds us, each and every one, never to forget, not for a single day.

The flame also reminds us that life is precious. As each flame is unique; when it goes out, it's gone forever. There will never be another quite like it."
Ambassador Delenn, Babylon 5

I write this in part, admittedly, because I would like to think that there's at least a little something out there to remember me by. Granted, this site will eventually vanish, being ephemeral in a very real sense of the word, but at least for a time it can serve as a tiny record of my contributions to the world. But on a larger scale, for those who knew me well enough to be saddened by my death, especially for those who haven't known anyone else lost to this war, perhaps my death can serve as a small reminder of the costs of war. Regardless of the merits of this war, or of any war, I think that many of us in America have forgotten that war means death and suffering in wholesale lots. A decision that for most of us in America was academic, whether or not to go to war in Iraq, had very real consequences for hundreds of thousands of people. Yet I was as guilty as anyone of minimizing those very real consequences in lieu of a cold discussion of theoretical merits of war and peace. Now I'm facing some very real consequences of that decision; who says life doesn't have a sense of humor?

But for those who knew me and feel this pain, I think it's a good thing to realize that this pain has been felt by thousands and thousands (probably millions, actually) of other people all over the world. That is part of the cost of war, any war, no matter how justified. If everyone who feels this pain keeps that in mind the next time we have to decide whether or not war is a good idea, perhaps it will help us to make a more informed decision. Because it is pretty clear that the average American would not have supported the Iraq War had they known the costs going in. I am far too cynical to believe that any future debate over war will be any less vitriolic or emotional, but perhaps a few more people will realize just what those costs can be the next time.

This may be a contradiction of my above call to keep politics out of my death, but I hope not. Sometimes going to war is the right idea. I think we've drawn that line too far in the direction of war rather than peace, but I'm a soldier and I know that sometimes you have to fight if you're to hold onto what you hold dear. But in making that decision, I believe we understate the costs of war; when we make the decision to fight, we make the decision to kill, and that means lives and families destroyed. Mine now falls into that category; the next time the question of war or peace comes up, if you knew me at least you can understand a bit more just what it is you're deciding to do, and whether or not those costs are worth it.

Major Olmsted--Andy, as you prefer to be called--I salute you, and all of the men and women who have raised their right hands to protect and defend their country, who willingly went to war even if they did not agree with the politics behind it, who laid their lives on the line so that we would not have to, and especially, to those like you, who have tried so hard to help us back here at home in our cushy lives, to understand.

The reactions of the regular readers of your blog, who wept, vomited, cried out, cursed, and buried their faces in their hands, remind us of the true wisdom of your words, that this is happening, every day, to families, friends, and loved ones of those who will not return to a joyous homecoming, but instead, to the shattered remains of a young life cut short.

You rest now, son.  Let someone else pick up the sword and shield.  You did your job well and bravely and--like so many before you--with great humor and grace.  We will pray for your family, and we will never forget, not for a single day.