Recently, a man I consider something of an online friend posted what I consider to be a terribly slanderous rant. He's a leftist who now favors war, but he attacks so-called "warbloggers" (webloggers who have long supported war with Saddam Hussein) as "chickenhawks." He says they are pathetic, think war is like video games, and will be hypocrites who turn against the war if it goes badly. He also lambasts the Bush administration as a bunch of venal liars, even while admitting that they've been on the right course all along.

I'm not going to link to his message. But it did make me decide to re-post something by my dear old friend Gary Utter. As war looms near now, it seems quite timely anyway.

So here, my friends, is what at least one former Army sargeant thinks about "chickenhawks":

Once upon a time I was in a war. I wasn't there because I wanted to be.

I wasn't there because I had to be. I could have gone to Canada. I could have gone to Sweden. I could have claimed to be gay.

But I didn't. I was drafted, and, instead of fighting it, I enlisted in the US Army.

Eventually, I wound up in what I refer to as Beautiful Southeast Asia, known to those who haven't been there as Viet Nam, and known to those who have been there by many names loaded with meanings the rest of you wouldn't understand. I spent 1969 with the 1st Signal Brigade and went back for a second tour in 1970 with the 101st Airborne Division.

I saw things nobody should have to see, and I got off better than a lot of people. Certainly I got off better than the people I saw killed or horribly maimed (on both sides). Certainly I got off better than the people who came back all screwed up mentally because they couldn't handle what they'd seen. But still, I came back a different man, and, I would argue, a better man.

I learned a lot about people, a lot about myself, and a lot about reality. There is something about being absolutely, positively convinced that you will die within the next minute, about being completely helpless, and reconciling yourself to the end of your life, making peace with what you are, and what you have been, that makes you different.

There is something about watching a man die while he is lighting your cigarette, about watching men die all around you, that makes you different.

There is something about watching a man coming at you with a satchel charge while you put round after round of non-lethal M16 rounds into him, knowing that his sole, final purpose in life is to take you with him into hell, that makes you different. There's something about blowing a 16 year old sniper into dollrags with a .50 caliber machine gun that makes you different.

This is stuff that I generally try not to talk about. This is stuff I usually manage to not even think about, because thinking about stuff like this is bad. Thinking about stuff like this makes me different.

You survive in a combat environment by being aggressive. Even when you are laying low, exercising due caution, HIDING, you're being aggressive. You're thinking aggressive, planning aggressive, maintaining an aggressive attitude. Bringing it back, even in memory, brings back the attitude as well. So right now, I'm feeling pretty aggressive. Pretty hostile, in fact.

Now, here's the thing. I really dislike people who have the balls to call someone else a coward when their own courage has not been tested. It's a cheap shot. It is what we used to call in my Army days, CHICKENSHIT.

Look here, we have an all-volunteer military these days. They are in the Army, the Navy, the Marines, the Air Force because they want to serve. They don't want to serve in Fort Bragg, or Pensecola, or Camp Lejeune. They want to serve where it matters, in the face of America's enemies. They chose this life. They worked hard to learn combat skills, and they practiced many long hours to perfect those skills.

In the process, they pretty much put themselves outside society. WAY too many people treat the military like second class citizens. Our own government does the same. An awful lot of these people could make four or five times as much money on the outside as they make in the military (even considering the "free housing and medical care"). Instead, they live in substandard housing, and often feed their families with food stamps.

These people want to fight for their country. It's the payoff they get for all the crap, all the lousy food, the lousy pay, the disdain they are often treated with.

Sure, there's risk. There is risk in fighting fires, but I don't see anyone saying that encouraging firefighters is a bad thing. There's risk in policing our streets, but I don't hear anyone suggesting that we shouldn't do it.

I have nieces and nephews in the military. I have a lot of friends in the Reserves. Every single serving member that I have spoken with about this has said substantially the same thing: that they are ready to go kick some Iraqi ass. This is not to say they want war, but they are ready, willing and able to fight one.

If you want to argue against war with Iraq, then argue against war with Iraq. To argue that anyone who supports the war is a coward because they don't have to go is an argument with no merit, and exposes the weakness of your reasoning skills. There are plenty of good reasons to oppose war with Iraq. Our military does not need some lameass blogger to protect them from the rabid Republicans. They are quite capable of taking care of themselves.

And by the way, a "chickenhawk" is a perv who cruises juvenile male prostitutes. It has not a thing to do with war.

Gary Utter spent a chunk of his youth in the Army. He served in the Intelligence Command, 1st Signal Brigade (44th Signal Battalion), 1st Infantry, 4th Infantry, 25th Infantry, 1st Calvary and 101st Airborne. After his second tour of combat duty in Vietnam, he he was offered a direct commission as warrant officer, but turned it down. He mustered out as an E-5 Sergeant. For his troubles, he got what he calls "a bunch of 'I was there' medals, some Presidential Unit Citations and a Bronze Star."

Today he works for the Rochester, New York Police Department.