She heard him speaking with his friend as they sat drinking in the booth directly behind her. She bristled with outrage and gulped the liquid courage of her white wine spritzer seething more and more inside as she listened in on the conversation in their booth.  As a journalist for "Peace on Earth" Ms. DeVille had strived to preach and write against the very thing this man was preaching.  Almost in shock she heard him say:

“The President should commit at least two more battalions of infantry, another armoured division and get the fifth fleet to start bombarding their bases from the gulf of Tehran.  We need more soldiers more equipment and more planes down there and those boys can do the job that needs to be done.” She heard him tell his pal, and then coolly, calls for two more beer from the bar keep.

Ted’s partner spoke next and his words were almost as shocking when he said:

“I think the American people need to fall into line Ted and also show their support for the president and the troops in combat. These peaceniks and do-gooders are all right but if they have the right to voice their comments why is it the press don’t give support to the guys that need it from the President down to the foot soldiers carrying their rifles into battle everyday to fight for them.”

This was too much for Ms. DeVille, jumping up from her place she rounded the booth to confront both of these men who thought war was just a game to be pursued. Her comments though preceded her to the next booth as she let out with a torrent of anti-war tirade words:

“Just who the hell do you two clowns think you are encouraging the killing of so many people in the name of the United States and us law abiding and peace-loving people….” And then she was standing at their booth.

          The dark glasses and white cane leaning against the arm of the first man’s chair gave her the first clue, the dress uniform of the Airborne Division with the bright row of shiny medals and the Purple Heart on his breast gave her the second clue. With her mouth agape she looked to his pal who sat across from him with the sleeve of his tunic pinned to his uniform where once his arm might have been, he too wore the medals and he too wore a purple heart. The cane beside his chair ironically pointed slightly where it lay towards his wheel chair in the corner.

          As soldiers and gentlemen they both attempted to rise at the presence of a women and the first soldier held out his hand at the sudden quietness of their uninvited guest. Weekly Ms DeVille took the young soldiers hand and shook it awkwardly.

“Ma’am I’m Sergeant Ted Mathers and my friend here is Corporal Joe Johnson, you ask a very good question ma’am and I will give you a good answer if you will allow me.”

“You see ma’am both of us just recently returned from Iraq and the fighting of a terrorist war that neither of us wanted but both thought was an honour to go and fight for our country and the citizens of this world. We were both injured when we tried to pull some kids out of a burning house.

The house had been sabotaged by terrorists and when we got the last child his lace was triggered to a bomb that took out the rest of the house, two of our fellow soldiers were killed and gave us the injuries you see before you.” Today President Bush pinned these Medals of Honour and Purple Hearts to our breasts at the whitehouse.

           The soldier paused to take a sip of his beer and without missing a beat his buddy continued. “Ma’am my father fought and was killed in Vietnam and my grandfather was decorated in WW II, so when you ask what gives us the right…our country did ma’am, and we have the scars to prove it. When we are no longer allowed to speak our minds then this country will no longer be the country our founders and forefathers fought and died to make a free land.”

Ms. DeVille for the first time in a long time had little to say so she hugged both gentlemen, and said: “God bless you both and the soldiers everywhere who fight under the flag of the United States of America.”