BANG, BOOM, BLAM, TAT-A-TAT, TAT. My ears are assaulted by the noise, my eyes see the blood gushing from a fallen soldier. I observe soldiers carried away by bombs. I see blood saturating an infantryman. I see mutilated men and I observe limbs with fragmented bones. I see dead militiamen on the ground. I listen to screams, grunts and gurgles of blood in a man's windpipe. WHOOSH, the flamethrowers carve a path with flames that instantly burn the men. My eyes reveal the emotion that tears my heart, tears flow down my cheek. I turn my head. I can't watch a soldier cradling his buddy as he dies. The Great War rages. Generals command the war and discuss acceptable casualties while planning and strategizing for the next stage of the battle. The Battle of Argonne Forest has begun. This sentence strikes me while listening to the film. What are acceptable losses? I look up the words and find the meaning of the sentence. It is a euphemism for men killed in combat. This is a nice way of saying that a certain number of men will be killed in order to launch a combat offensive and achieve a military objective. My reaction to this expression is no! There should be no acceptable losses. What purpose does this serve? Why so many sacrifices, why so many senseless losses: of friends, fathers, husbands, brothers and sons? When is there something unacceptable about this sofa? It is impossible for me to answer these questions. I don't understand why there has to be a war and expressions such as acceptable casualties. I don't think anyone's sacrifice should be spoken of with such cruelty. Men die. That it is war, but we must not describe their death as acceptable, tragic perhaps, but never admissible. Although most readers will... middle of paper ......, and I know I will prioritize protection. of our country's army. In fact, as I write this article, I am looking at a framed photo of a man. Above the right shoulder, in the background, is a blue field with silver stars behind his right shoulder. Juxtaposed behind his left shoulder is a red field containing a pattern of gold and silver. Its cover is bright white, with a golden eagle globe and an anchor symbol in the middle. Determined blue eyes look at me. His mouth tightened with determination. His uniform, a deep blue bordered with red. Gold buttons run down the center. The leather neck is cinched with two gold eagle globes and anchors on either side of the closure. A US Marine looks at me and I cry because a general, an officer could one day consider my son an acceptable loss. Works Cited The Lost Battalion, Hank Jackson, 2001