When I consider the sacrifices of the men and women who serve or have served in the United States Armed Forces I question my worthiness. It is to them I speak right now. You fought for me long before I was born. You fight today, that I might not have to. You disciplined yourselves, obeyed orders, and faced your worst fears that I might be an undisciplined, disobedient coward. I hide in my basement and write comic strips. You walk down the middle of the street in clothing that screams "target." I pay for my mistakes by getting occasional hate-mail. You pay for everybody's mistakes with your blood. In a world where it is increasingly unpopular to be an American you wear a flag on your shoulder when you go abroad, while I lounge comfortably behind the borders you and your brothers across the generations have secured. I am humbled to find servicemen and women reading and enjoying Schlock Mercenary. Sometimes I am asked whether I have ever served in the military. I never have. I considered it briefly, but I was afraid. You, however, were not afraid. Or if you were, you were also wise enough to know that fear is a thing to be faced, and it is the one thing that MUST be faced before you can face anything else. It has taken me twenty years to learn that lesson. You bought those twenty years for me, affording me the opportunity to learn about courage while comfortable. When I consider your many sacrifices I find myself unworthy of them. But I accept them with gratitude, and applaud you with a sense of awe. Thank you for doing what I cannot. You amaze me.