Letter written by Kevin Tillman, one the eve of his brother's birthday, guess he has come full circle. The first source is the newspaper it was printed in, which then give the link to Truthdig(a lefty source) where Kevin's letter is found. http://www.azcentral.com/sports/cardinals/articles/1020tillman-ON-CP.html http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/200601019_after_pats_birthday/ It is PatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s birthday on November 6, and elections are the day after. It gets me thinking about a conversation I had with Pat before we joined the military. He spoke about the risks with signing the papers. How once we committed, we were at the mercy of the American leadership and the American people. How we could be thrown in a direction not of our volition. How fighting as a soldier would leave us without a voiceÃ¢â‚¬Â¦ until we got out. Much has happened since we handed over our voice: Somehow we were sent to invade a nation because it was a direct threat to the American people, or to the world, or harbored terrorists, or was involved in the September 11 attacks, or received weapons-grade uranium from Niger, or had mobile weapons labs, or WMD, or had a need to be liberated, or we needed to establish a democracy, or stop an insurgency, or stop a civil war we created that canÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t be called a civil war even though it is. Something like that. Somehow our elected leaders were subverting international law and humanity by setting up secret prisons around the world, secretly kidnapping people, secretly holding them indefinitely, secretly not charging them with anything, secretly torturing them. Somehow that overt policy of torture became the fault of a few Ã¢â‚¬Å“bad applesÃ¢â‚¬ in the military. Somehow back at home, support for the soldiers meant having a five-year-old kindergartener scribble a picture with crayons and send it overseas, or slapping stickers on cars, or lobbying Congress for an extra pad in a helmet. ItÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s interesting that a soldier on his third or fourth tour should care about a drawing from a five-year-old; or a faded sticker on a car as his friends die around him; or an extra pad in a helmet, as if it will protect him when an IED throws his vehicle 50 feet into the air as his body comes apart and his skin melts to the seat.