"It has taken a while to respond because I wanted to give this some thought, in between the many fires one puts out while consulting on a state representative campaign, a prosecutor campaign and a US Senate campaign.
I enlisted during the Vietnam War. They weren’t shipping 17 year olds or I most likely would have wound up jungle temperature because I wasn’t the most savvy individual wearing a uniform. I had a lot of book-learning: scored very high in tests, but lacked the skill set necessary to put it all together for at least 2 years. But in all of that, I don’t recall thinking profound thoughts. We very much lived in the moment.
They were, arguably, moments that varied from the searing heat of Saudi Arabia to the mind numbing cold of Grafenwhoer or the East German border. They were moments of sheer, unadulterated boredom to indescribable, white light excitement.
But in all of that, we viewed the forest with the tree bark within inches of our faces. We mostly weren’t big-picture guys. I knew the quasi-isolation of living on the East German border a long way away from Frankfurt Airport/Rhein Main Air Base… which would have been taken out immediately if the balloon went up, quickly killing any expectation of evacuating dependents.
Because of our proximity to the border and the fact that I knew the dependent evacuation plan was just so much eye wash, I knew the feeling of teaching my former wife the rudimentary knowledge she needed to have of a .45… of putting that .45 away into a closet and turning to look at her to tell her that she should not allow herself or the children to be taken alive.
I knew that.
But there was no historical perspective for me, since I was in the moment.
Much like viewing life from the wrong end of a telescope, the view was stilted and primarily focused on the maximum range of the 120 MM smoothbore cannon on an Abrams tank (3000 meters) and how far the M3 Cavalry Fighting Vehicle (Bradley) could go on a tank of fuel. The things we did were things we had to do and conditions we had to live in, places frequently hostile to us and our mission. During that time, I saw the best and the worst of men. I saw great commanders and mediocre officers. I saw the political animals and the truly great.
But it was rarely, if ever, viewed in terms of sacrifice at the time.
I spent 6 years in the middle of one battlefield or another in Germany and other places where horrific things were the insane order of the day. I visited the ancestral estates of the Count of Dachau… twice… and you’re right… you DO “feel it.”
If you have not served… or have not suffered the loss of a loved one… or part of a loved one… you can never truly know or understand these things. That vacuum is now felt at the highest levels and shows in the cluelessness of this nation’s leadership.
I don’t feel worse for our civilian culture that neither has nor wants to find that understanding. I don’t know that there’s ever enough that we can do for our combat veterans… the risks and costs are so great, and they’ve frequently paid it.
But I don’t view the time I spent in the military as a sacrifice. We all owe a debt at some level; the question is which?
I was hard wired for the Army. I wasn’t perfect for it, and for me, it was extremely difficult to traverse the political terrain (I frequently did not play well with the other children) and I made some very bad judgments in the area of my personal life. But most likely, I would have made them regardless of my chosen vocation.
I probably would have stayed in another 6 years or so until retirement (Sheesh… retirement at age 37) and I would have caught the first Persian gulf war. But the family situation killed that off. I regret missing that war. But in saying that, it isn’t because of a duty to my country so much as it is the latent desire to engage in the thing I knew best how to do under the conditions I was meant to do it in. Not to worry. Others have taken my place.
I just wish our country would keep its word to us about what we would receive in return for service. But since that is not going to happen, I leave you with this:
You can bet that I stand ready when the wolf growls at the door,
Hey, I'm solid, hey I'm steady, hey I'm true down to the core,
And I will always do my duty, no matter what the price,
I've counted up the cost, I know the sacrifice,
Oh, and I don't want to die for you,
But if dying's asked of me,
I'll bear that cross with an honor,
'Cause freedom don't come free.
I'm an American Soldier, an American,
Beside my Brothers and my Sisters I will proudly take a stand.
When liberty's in jeopardy I'll always do what's right.
I'm out here on the front lines, sleep in peace tonight.
American Soldier,
I'm an American Soldier.
It’s what I was meant to be. And the greatest loss within my life, outside my son, will be that I did not die in uniform.
I don’t write this out of any sense of sacrifice for doing that which I chose to do for the country that has provided me with the ability to succeed beyond my wildest dreams. But part of me never stopped being a soldier. And even now, after being out for 23 years… I still miss it terribly. Most of us, given a choice, wouldn’t have it any other way.
No comments:
Post a Comment