I am a military police officer and I have served on two

Hear the solemn words of Tulsi Gabbard, spoken not as a boast, but as a testimony of service: “I am a military police officer and I have served on two deployments; my first was to Iraq, in a medical unit, and my second deployment was to Kuwait, as a military police platoon leader.” Within this statement lies more than mere record of places and titles—it carries the weight of sacrifice, the burden of duty, and the eternal truth that those who answer the call to serve walk a path both perilous and sacred.

In her remembrance of Iraq, she speaks of tending the wounded in a medical unit. This is the first face of service: the healer, the one who bends over shattered bodies, binding wounds, easing pain, giving breath where breath falters. War reveals the fragility of flesh, yet in the midst of destruction there shines the mercy of those who carry others back from the brink. In such service lies the courage not of the sword, but of compassion. To heal amid war is to declare that even in chaos, humanity shall not be extinguished.

Then comes her tale of Kuwait, where she bore the mantle of military police platoon leader. Here is the second face of service: the guardian, the keeper of order among warriors. To lead men and women in foreign lands is no light duty, for their lives are bound to the wisdom of their leader. It is to stand watch in the shadows, ensuring justice even when the world around cries for vengeance. To command with fairness and with discipline is to embody the strength of character that is greater than any weapon.

History gives us echoes of such duality. Recall Florence Nightingale, who walked among the wounded of Crimea with her lamp, saving countless lives by her compassion and discipline. Recall also Alexander the Great, who though a conqueror, often slept among his soldiers and shared their rations, for he knew that leadership was not dominion but shared sacrifice. Tulsi’s service reflects this ancient union: the tender healer and the steadfast leader, joined in one life of duty.

The meaning of her words reaches beyond herself. They proclaim that service is not one-dimensional; it is not only battle, nor only healing, but both, woven together by the thread of responsibility. It is to go where one is needed, whether to bind wounds or to enforce law, whether to comfort the fallen or to command the living. Service means adaptation, resilience, and loyalty to a cause greater than oneself.

Thus, the lesson stands clear: honor those who serve not merely for their titles, but for their willingness to step into many roles—sometimes healer, sometimes warrior, always servant of their people. Respect is due not only to the victories won in combat, but to the countless acts of unseen labor that preserve life and uphold justice in times of chaos. The noblest service is not glory-seeking, but the quiet endurance of hardship for the sake of others.

Take this wisdom into your own life: seek always to serve in more than one way. Be a healer where wounds appear—whether wounds of the body, the heart, or the spirit. Be a guardian where order falters, standing firm when others shrink. And above all, lead with compassion if ever others are entrusted to your care. For leadership without mercy is tyranny, and healing without discipline is weakness; but together, they form the eternal balance of true service.

So let the words of Tulsi Gabbard endure as a witness: “I have served on two deployments.” In these simple words lies the epic of many who bear the weight of duty far from home. May her testimony remind us that the path of service is not easy, but it is noble, and that each of us, in our own sphere, is called to serve with both courage and compassion.