Oct
15
DOES ANYONE CARE?
Filed Under American Patriotism, Tears of a Warrior, Today's War, Trauma, Troops, Veterans, War | Comments Off
by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D
It’s been on the news and in the papers – the latest studies about our military personnel serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.
The studies done by the Pew Research Center were based on two surveys between July and September (Denver Post, Oct. 6, 2011). One survey focused on military individuals who are currently on active duty along with those who have served but are no longer active. The second survey polled over 2000 adults who had never been in the military.
What disturbed me most however was not the report that many of our troops are either “ambivalent” or do not feel the current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were “worth the sacrifices”. Nope, what was most unsettling for me was that adults polled who had never served in the military did not give much thought to those serving in combat. Many felt that those who volunteered to serve their country knew what they were getting into.
- 84 percent of these modern-era warriors say the general American public has little or no understanding of the problems they face, with 71 percent of the public agreeing.
- Many Americans agree that since the terror attacks in the U.S., the military and their families have made more sacrifices than the general public. But even among this group, only 26 percent say this gap is “unfair,” while 70 percent say that it’s “just part of being in the military”. (msnbc.com staff and news service reports updated 10/5/2011 5:50:40 AM ET 2011-10-05T09:50:40)
I guess this last research bullet just didn’t sit well with me. Probably because as a family we have lived the aftermath of combat, lived with the ghosts of the dead and dying, and had to cope with the nightmares, anxiety attacks, and flashback memories. It isn’t that any vet or his/her family wants empathy for his/her service, but to read that 70% believe that “it’s just part of being in the military” seems like a really insensitive statement.
I am not sure that any person, young or old, has a true idea of what war and combat is about. I am pretty sure, on the other hand, that none of them had any clue that what they do, see, and experience in hell will stay with them for a lifetime. That the war they fought on foreign soils will follow them home and into their living rooms, relationships, and careers. Few of them had any clue that these things were “just part of being in the military”.
Perhaps, since Vietnam, too many Americans have been too far removed from the sacrifices of war. During WWII everyone on the home front had to give up something for the war. Now, most give up nothing, while those few who serve give up far too much. The very least we at home can do is give two or three minutes each day to say a short prayer for those and their families who serve. Just remembering our military will certainly make us, not merely better people, but a more thoughtful, compassionate nation.
Mar
25
LOST IN WAR
Filed Under Tears of a Warrior, Today's War, Trauma, War | Comments Off
by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D
In our book, “Tears of a Warrior: A Family’s Story of Combat and Living with PTSD “, one chapter talks about the “Humpty-Dumpty Effect”. Most people know the children’s nursery rhyme where the poor egg falls off a wall and breaks into numerous pieces that can’t be put back together again. For a veteran, war can be the culprit that pushed Mr. Dumpty off his perch. In our civilian culture we might try and sue for all a person is worth, however in war there are too many different elements to specifically place the blame of a broken body.
The underlying analogy of Humpty-Dumpty is what he lost when he fell and cracked his inner and outer shell. The major damage may be a lost sense of wholeness. One goes into combat young and feeling invincible and often returns in pieces. Pieces when put back will take super gorilla glue to hold together, while some pieces many not mend regardless of the care applied.
Searching for those lost pieces may become a never-ending journey. Putting back the broken eggshells of the body, mind, and heart can be a life-time challenge. The delicate part of the process occurs unexpectedly when hidden memories, ghosts of conflict, and unresolved grief overtake Humpty and rescrambles his being, again and again. It can be a daily occurrence for many vets and their families, and sometimes, in attempting to put the pieces back, we run out of glue.
Finding what was lost in war may be a pointless pursuit, like looking for a coin in a vast sea of sand and rock after it has fallen off a steep cliff. One will never fully retrieve his/her sense of innocence. He will never regain that youthful sense of invincibility known prior to combat. She will never view the world like she did before looking at scenes of devastation, death, and the severely wounded. The security of childhood has been turned into the reality of a sometimes cruel and inhumane world. A world that is different for the veteran than for people back home who have never witnessed war’s bluntness.
Perhaps Humpty may never retrieve or replace his lost pieces or restore the wholeness that existed before war. Yet, being pasted back may bring together a renewed sense of purpose and personal aspirations. Mosaic eggs have their own unique beauty. A beauty that cannot be replicated for each section of the egg is placed in a distinct part of what was once a solid structure. With enough care and support, the shell can once again become sturdy and uniquely whole. As for me, while I am using the sticky stuff, I think I will put a generous sprinkle of glitter and gold that will enable the sunlight to reflect the new dimensions of the outer and inner egg shell.
Maybe our veterans’ youthful wholeness was lost. We will surely grieve its purity. Yet, do not refrain from celebrating the physical and emotional strength of the new Humpty-Dumpty. He, in his full glory, is not lost, only remolded into something with greater substance, courage, compassion, and hopefully a whole lot of sparkle.
Mar
9
UNCOVER THE SUN
Filed Under Combat PTSD, PTSD, PTSD treatment, Tears of a Warrior, Today's War, Treating PTSD | 1 Comment
by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D
There are so many ways to experience trauma in the world. Combat is just one, but it is one where the impact keeps on giving and giving. For many whose painful experiences occurred once or twice, many seem to be able to get up in the morning and feel grateful for the opportunity to have a fresh new start. The sun shines brighter and the colors of the world are more intense, even if some nights are seemingly unbearable.
The difference between a one time experience and multiple traumatic occurrences is the cumulative effect. The more often an individual faces harrowing life events, the more likely the brain is going to be influenced by those events. Because the brain is sculpted by experience, everything good or bad can make a difference.
We become who we are due to our genetic foundations and our environment. If that environment is nurturing, safe and challenging in a positive way, we have a greater chance to develop into self-confident, cheerful people. If, however, that environment is saturated with violent, unpredictable and dangerous circumstances the brain molds itself into a survival organism in order to hopefully sustain the trauma. The important thing to remember, however, is the age when a trauma occurs. Earlier is not always better.
We know the brain is not fully developed until the mid twenties (especially in males). So what do you think multiple combat deployments do to a developing brain? For many young men and women the outcome is pretty darn complicated. Connections within the brain are changed. Neurotransmitters, those chemicals in the brain that allow us to feel pleasure, prepare for fight or flight, suffer with depression, and other human experiences are changed. The physical organism that controls our behavior is changed. Trauma is serious business with serious effects for many.
For warriors returning from combat, the world is not as bright and welcoming as it was before war. Sense of identity is changed… you leave as a somewhat naive youngster and return as an adult aged beyond your years. PTSD is like having a gray veil placed over the sun. Sure it still shines. Yes, you can feel the warmth of its rays.
Yet, nothing is the same as before you left. Healing from trauma can be the unveiling of the sun. The way to remove that shroud or at least make it lighter is to seek help as soon as possible. You have the strength to Uncover the Sun. More importantly, you deserve to have the full brightness of its rays lighting your days and warming your heart.
Jan
17
WAITING FOR UNCLE SAM
Filed Under Tears of a Warrior, Today's War, Veteran Benefits, War | Comments Off
by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D
A film came out this fall called Waiting for Superman. It was a documentary on the state of education and our public/charter schools. Many educators perceived the information as “anti” teachers. As a teacher who has been in the field for many decades, I felt the film had many good points, yet, as most documentaries go, it did not address the issues of educating high needs students in the most accurate manner. So it is when dealing with supporting our troops when they return from combat.
First, let me state up front, I have seen and believe most of the individuals who work directly with our military veterans are committed, caring professionals. Every day they do their utmost to make a difference in healing the vet’s emotional and physical wounds. However, there continues to be incredible hurdles veterans must jump through to get the services they need to move forward. Government agencies, much like any huge organization, have far too many procedures, protocols, and paper work for any person to move through in a sane and timely manner. Paper work gets lost or misplaced; doctor appointments and therapy sessions can take months, even years to get into the structure, and classification methods may or may not accurately assess the circumstances of the person.
Many vets continue to report that too often the system uses over medication to solve a problem without proper supervision. What they are asking for are not more pills, but someone to talk to on a regular basis–someone who will listen and assist him in sorting out his experiences, someone who will provide recommendations for coping with the memories and the hurting.
Now, herein lies a huge obstacle – there simply aren’t enough qualified personnel on board to meet the needs of the enormous number of veterans requesting services. One counselor indicated that in her area there were only five therapist hired to handle a client population of 25,000 veterans. Do the math… that would mean each therapist would be responsible for 5,000 individuals – an impossible mission for any person to accomplish regardless of their expertise and dedication.
Some areas of the country are doing a much better job than others. Some vet centers have more resources and personnel to do the work necessary to make the difference in a timely manner. Every site wants to support their veterans, yet they may not have the means to do this effectively and efficiently. So this message is to our government, our elected officials, and Uncle Sam.
Our military and their families cannot afford to WAIT for the treatments they need to get better. They cannot WAIT weeks or months for a doctor’s appointment when the pain is getting worse every day. And they cannot WADE through the incredible amount of red tape to receive the treatments needed NOW! I know that those running the Veteran Centers and hospitals would love to have fewer forms and a more functional process. Surely, if we try we can do better. We can, with careful thought, provide a system that would better support our troops – past, present, and future.
If we send them, then we must mend them.
Aug
28
THINKING ABOUT WAR AND PEACE
Filed Under American Patriotism, Black Lions, Combat PTSD, Tears of a Warrior, Today's War, War, Wisdom | Comments Off
by Janet J. Seahorn
For the last several weeks, my husband and I have been researching and preparing for a presentation we would be giving to the Nebraska Vietnam Veteran Reunion.
We were asked to talk about how we came to write our book, Tears of a Warrior: A Family’s Story of Combat and Living With PTSD. It was such an honor to be invited to be a part of this amazing event which has been going on for the last twenty five years. The night before we left, I read an article Tony had given me titled, “Our Helmets Duel No More”. It was written by retired Lt. General Hal G. Moore. Some of you may be familiar with General Moore as he wrote the books, We Were Soldiers Once… and Young (1992) and We Are Soldiers Still (2008).
Reading General Moore’s experiences regarding the Vietnam War, and later revisiting the country and meeting the Viet Cong General he fought against over forty years ago, made me wonder if such a reunion would ever be possible for those fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan? I questioned whether either side would be able to feel forgiveness. Whether the intense hatred some people in these countries feel for Americans, our way of life, our religions would lessen with time? Whether the many good deeds both our military and civilian organizations are doing building schools, hospitals, and other improvements will be remembered?
What I did not wonder about was the incredible amount of loss, pain, and sorrow war of any kind takes on a country, a community, and, most of all a family. General Moore began his story with these words, “When the blood of any war soaks your clothes and covers your hands, and soldiers die in your arms, every breath forevermore becomes an appeal for greater peace, unity and reconciliation between nations”. Wounds of the body and soul are branded deep into the heart. Those who fight for America pay a very high price for her freedom.
The article read like so many war stories. Trauma, victory, failure, sorrow, the ugliness of battle… and the list goes on. But the piece ended with some pretty profound advice:
When the heartbeat of one soldier stops forever, the heartbeat of our nation should accelerate, driving us to ensure that this life was not sacrificed in vain. It should rouse us to seek better ways to understand and deal with international differences. We owe our dead and their survivors no less. We owe our children, and our children’s children, much more”.
The leadership we loose with each life, the intellectual and emotional goodness broken by combat may only be repaired with each person’s prayer, and every country’s commitment to searching for more appropriate ways to solve our differences. But until or if this every happens, we need to make sure whoever we send to fight our wars, as a nation we must do everything humanly possible to mend, not only the warrior, but the family unit that was also part of the sacrifice.
God Bless America, and God Bless our Vets, Young and Old and their Families
Apr
14
Here Today and Sometimes Still Here Tomorrow
Filed Under Combat PTSD, PTSD, Tears of a Warrior, Today's War, War | 1 Comment
PTSD continues to be everywhere in the news, on TV, and in the movies. The question I have is “Who is listening to all of these stories? Who is concerned about the growing number of new cases resulting from multiple tours of duty in our current wars? Are those in Washington who must attend to severe budget concerns able to do what is necessary? What is right? Is the average American informed enough to care?” Following is information from just one of many data sources on PTSD. It comes from Noel Brinkerhoff (Monday, April 12, 2010), and the information is disturbing.
Nearly 300,000 American troops have served three, four or more times in Iraq and/or Afghanistan, while cases of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) have risen dramatically since the wars began. The possible correlation between these two facts has led to the question of whether it’s fair to send young men and women back into combat again and again, and risk causing long-term mental and emotional problems, not to mention the physical toll.
One U.S. Army study from 2009 found troops in Afghanistan were more vulnerable to developing psychological problems as the number of tours went up (31% for three tours, more than double the rate of those with just one). Another study focused on Iraq showed nearly 15% of Army troops who served two tours suffered from depression, anxiety or traumatic stress; more than double that of a single tour. The PTSD rate was almost 2.5 times higher for two deployments compared with one.
“We just don’t know whether it’s combat exposure, repeated separation from the family or (not enough) time off,” Lieutenant Colonel Paul Bliese, director of the division of psychiatry and neuroscience at the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research, told the Associated Press. “All of those are reasonable explanations.”
Whatever the reason, the ultimate result is that more troops returning home are bringing back with them a whole host of demons and ghosts. These unwanted visitors may never leave the veteran and have significant impact on families, children, and communities. Let us hope that people who can make war decisions are listening, creating effective support services, and making the process as uncomplicated as possible. Let us hope that Americans are willing to provide the physical and mental health funding needed to restore those suffering from combat wounds.
For many families and veterans, the process of getting help becomes so overwhelming difficult that they feel victimized by the very system that should be offering them hope and healing. And let us hope that every politician and every member of our society takes seriously our motto:
If we send them, then we must mend them.
Jan
19
The Nightmare Revisited
Filed Under Life, Peace, Today's War, Trauma, War | Comments Off
By Janet J. Seahorn
Last year at this time, Tony and I were in Vietnam and Cambodia. It was a humbling, yet inspiring excursion. As Tony stated many times, he did not go there to heal or recreate the war. He wanted to visit, only to see how things had changed, with hopes that the people and the country were mending.
By all outward appearances hope seemed to be occurring. Yet, what keep coming back to me, were the faces of the old women. We did not see the same number of older men, perhaps because many of this age were killed in the war. The women’s faces were not happy. Their features lined with rivers of anger. It was the eyes that held the emotions, and for many, their emotions were tortuous and hate-filled. What haunts me now are the faces I glimpse in the newspapers of civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan; similar looks living in human bodies experiencing similar horrors of war.
As we continue to read of the escalation of suicides of returning military men and women, I wonder if such unforgettable faces are haunting them. Faces of the enemy, faces of their comrades, faces of the children? In the first few blogs of this New Year, I wrote of Peace. Can it be attained in a person’s mind and heart after experiencing so much? I very much want to believe such a peace is possible. For others, the hideous experiences continue to dig deeper ravines into the soul. To heal, even a bit, these gorges must be filled in gradually.
Perhaps not fully, but even building up the crevasses a little keeps one from falling into the yawning depths of depression, anxiety, and hopelessness. As long as one can look up and see the sky, hope is present. It is when one’s existence is swallowed in darkness that even the tiniest light is diminished. Finding ways to keep the sunlight accessible for our returning vets will be the work of everyone: the nation, its people, families, friends, communities, and most importantly, the veteran.
We have troops leaving daily for the war zone, and others returning. A 2008 Rand Corporation study revealed that 300,000 troops who served in Iraq and Afghanistan had Post-Traumatic Stress, while 320,000 reported probable traumatic brain injuries. Both conditions greatly increase the likelihood of attempted suicide. “According to a Congressional Quarterly compilation in late November 2009, 334 active-duty military service men and women have taken their own lives in 2009″ (Edward Pages, 2009: The Year of Soldier’s Suicide), and this does not include those military individuals who have been discharged.
Let us all be sure to look into these eyes of freedom and not dismiss the signs of their sacrifice. Peace and healing is everyone’s work; everyone’s answerability. As a nation, it must be our core mission to mend and heal all those that fought in lands where few of us ever think to venture.
I doubt if many of our returning military personnel have rational thoughts of wanting to return to the combat zone. It took almost forty years for us to do so.
One of our favorite veterans, Michael MacDonald, wrote us the other day relating his response to those who frequently ask him if he ever wants to return to Vietnam for a visit. His reply, “Why, I was just there last night.”
And, for many, this statement is all too true. It is those nights without returning that we pray for in our sleep and dreams. It is those nights without revisiting the nightmares that keep us healing.
Jan
12
Another Perspective on War
Filed Under PTSD, Today's War, Trauma | 1 Comment
by Janet J. Seahorn
It is a snowy Sunday afternoon. I have been running errands, not because I have a great deal to do after the holidays; to be honest, I am merely trying to keep from thinking about the escalation of the war in Afghanistan. When I got home, Tony had posted a new message on our blog that began with “I seem to spend a lot of time thinking about war, even when I don’t want to. The reality of war. The horror of war…” With this blog he added an article from our local newspaper, The Denver Post. It was another reality check from troops actually involved in war, versus media or political rhetoric.
Every day we get emails, phone calls, or an acquaintance sharing a tragic story about a loved one, friend, or just someone they distantly know who is struggling with Post-Traumatic Stress. For those who have and are serving in the current conflict, the stories are so similar to Vietnam veterans it is down right eerie.
For some individuals the nightmares begin immediately. Others seem OK for the first six months or even a year, and then it begins, the panic attacks, unresolved anger, anxiety, and night terrors. The narratives, however, seem to remain the same. The vet initially attributes the emotions to some external force. He/she claims the feelings aren’t real. Given time, everything will be just fine.
Denial is an interesting strategy and may work for a short time, but sooner or later friends and family members will begin to feel the impact of the warrior’s pain. Owning the trauma is the first step to managing it.
I can’t begin to count how many people who have never served in the military, have never had to sacrifice their physical and emotional lives, have never lived with a parent or sibling who is carrying the war’s trauma in every cell of his body says something like, “there is a silver lining in these wars”, “if we don’t fight them there, we will have to fight them here on American soil”.
It isn’t that these individuals are unkind or uncaring; they merely have not had the experience of combat that comes with a very high personal price tag. The ultimate “Golden Globe of Thoughtlessness”, however, are those who doubt that PTSD even exists, and that if it does, it can be easily treated or overcome with just a little effort and personal fortitude.
OK, I admit, I sound cynical. Perhaps what might appease me a bit is giving all of those “others” a chance to sacrifice a bit of what our veterans are enduring. Perhaps, if the families of those “others” would have to witness and battle the demons in their homes with their loved ones, maybe, just maybe, my irritation would subside a bit. Or, maybe, just maybe, one tour of duty is enough for any warrior.
What I cannot accept is that this current war is being fought by less than one percent of the American population and that one percent isn’t comprised of the well-off and well-to-do. As a country we are passively engaged in a practice that will come to haunt us.
Haunt us as a country; haunt us in our communities; and haunt us as moral beings. For sooner or later, as a nation we will have to face the consequences of our inequitable actions. The price will be expensive and ugly.
I wonder if our country’s leaders and the American people will be willing and able to cover the costs.
Jan
3
A Perspective on War
Filed Under American Patriotism, PTSD, Today's War, War | Comments Off
I seem to spend a lot of time thinking about war, even when I don’t want to. The reality of war. The horror of war. What does winning a war really look like? Are war and terrorism even related or is one a symptom of the other?
Following is an article in today’s Denver Post which provides a perspective…
-Tony Seahorn
Fool’s game: A soldier’s lament
By Megan Nix
Posted: 01/03/2010
My friend from Denver, a thirtysomething with a full red beard, a plaid shirt, and a loud, choppy laugh, looks like any guy you might have a drink with to talk about girls or music or the work week.
The last time I hung out with him, we shared a beer stein on Larimer Street during Oktoberfest and talked about Halloween costumes. During a more recent happy hour, we talked about the summons he received to deploy to Afghanistan.
Because of the Army’s Uniform Code, I can’t name him. Suffice it to say he’s the one person in the 30,000 who got that call to whom I can give a voice.
It was Nov. 11, 2009, Veterans Day, when my friend was called back to war. His friends had taken him out to shoot clay pigeons in honor of his being a veteran in Iraq, and when he went to his parents’ house for Sunday dinner, a big envelope was waiting for him. He went down into the basement where his father, a potter, was shaping clay. “I just walked up to him and gave him a hug,” he says, smiling from above the amber glow of his draft beer. Hugs are not something he regularly does. “Then I stepped back, and I said, ‘Dad, I’m going to Afghanistan.’ ”
Like most soldiers, he’s dealing with some of the same symptoms as one of his heroes, Audie Murphy, a World War II vet who publicized the unseen wounds of war. Fear, insomnia, depression, a loss of faith in our country’s leaders, and a nightmarish reluctance to re-enter the world “outside the wire.” Like any young man who’s already been to war once, my friend is doing everything he can in order to not be deployed twice.
When he served in Baghdad, there were four to five American deaths a day, the city was a “cesspool,” and “generals were being moved around like playing cards. People don’t realize how much worse it is than what you see on TV. In a city that goes to war, services stop – sewage, water – there’s very limited law and order. You can’t even imagine how awful the world is when a war is happening there.”
Despite his hearty laugh and recurring shrugs, he exudes disillusionment. We’re nestled in a leather booth, and at the bar, two toothless men start to shove each other against the stools and shout obscenities.
“I bet you,” my war-bound buddy says, “at least one of them is a vet.” It doesn’t matter if they’re vets or not, at least one person here is, and those unseen wounds of war? I can see them in this bar.
“My job in Iraq as a public affairs specialist was to prove, ‘What’s the good here? What’s the silver lining? How can I slant this to look good?’” my friend explains. “If you’re very honest,” he says, with signature honesty and one hack of a laugh, “you could never do it.”
One of the reasons he has agreed to talk to me is so that he can be honest, albeit anonymously. The namelessness seems to fit: Both Iraq and Afghanistan are wars largely stocked with low- to mid-level soldiers on repeated deployment. Soldiers from Nowhereville, U.S.A., young men and women who will die largely unrecognized for being, as my friend says, “some sort of hero.”
He’s not in the business of sugar-coating. Bombs are the best way to kill because no one has to be there, he tells me. He recounts how the fluids on the floor of a walk-in freezer stacked with car bomb victims flowed, tar-black, to a drain under his feet. “Beyond capacity,” is how he describes the scene of the nameless corpses. “Innocent victims of roadside bombs gone wrong. The unwanted. Victims that will never ever be identified.”
My friend’s insights increase with the drinks. He points out that while what we have is called a “volunteer army,” life circumstances are what dictate if enlisting is in a kid’s future. “See those guys?” he points to the two men who have stopped fighting and are staring blankly at their sentinel of empty shot glasses. “If they did serve, I can almost guarantee they came from little money. No Haliburton sons and daughters are dying in Iraq or going to Afghanistan,” he says, pushing his finger into the beer-stained table. “I can’t even tell you how many Army leaders I’ve seen without a combat patch (signaling they’ve been deployed) on their right arm. It just shows you how many people aren’t bearing the weight of this war.”
The weight of his story accumulates like a collection of heavy fragments.
A break for a granola bar on the back of Vehicle 2. A deafening explosion. A puff of smoke where Vehicle 4 had been.
Like many young men who enlist, my friend wanted to be independent of his parents and the military was the best possible solution, so he enlisted five years ago. “I thought if I don’t find anything I’m passionate about, I should go,” he says.
By now, he’s gathered plenty of things to be passionate about. One of them is not returning to Afghanistan. As a technically disabled vet who already did five years, was honorably discharged, and “did everything I was ever asked,” he received the news of his “involuntary mobilization” with reluctance and disbelief. He knew he was subject to recall until June 2012, but opening the envelope was one of those times when you say, “Seriously? I mean, seriously?”
Really, he did more than he was asked to do: He volunteered to fight at a time when he knew he’d likely be deployed. He was stationed in Iraq during one of its bloodiest summers. And, most importantly, he came back.
He also has simpler reasons for not wanting to return: He doesn’t know if he can pick up a 200-plus-pound person. He doesn’t want to carry a weapon. And he doesn’t want to be a pawn in a game of politics if part of the reason the withdrawal is scheduled for 2011 is because President Obama is up for re-election in 2012.
After opening his Afghanistan envelope, my friend immediately called his superior to appeal. “What’s the deal?” he asked. “I cannot do this again.” And the noncommissioned officer on the phone replied: “Look, we are scrounging the bottom of the barrel right now. The bottom of the barrel.”
One of the two men at the bar says he doesn’t have the money to pay for his drinks tonight, stands up from his tattered stool to leave, then sits back down. Someone puts a coin in the jukebox and I’m hoping the song will be happy, but it’s not. Bonnie Tyler’s voice starts in on “Nothing but a Heartache.”
“I only saw the effects of war, not the worst of it,” my quieted friend admits as the song reaches its refrain. “For every war story, there’s a better story not being told. Those go to the grave. Or they’re stories that the people holding them can never begin to relive.”
Tyler croons, “It’s a fool’s game,” while I work on my next beer.
I’m not sure what I should tell this young, smiling and wounded man in front of me. That he’ll be fine and somehow his appeal will be granted, and if not, he’ll come back and we’ll have beers and it will be over. We both know that soon he’ll probably be on a plane with his 60 pounds of gear, looking for silver-lined stories to send back to middle American about the benefits of being at war.
“It’s a heartache,” she sings: “Nothing but a heartache. Hits you when it’s too late. Hits you when you’re down.”
There are many things to thank my friend for, but the only thing I thank him for at the end of the night is his time, and at least that feels like a little bit of sincerity in the midst of everything we’ve both heard and read about our reasons for sending him to Afghanistan. “I’ll see you soon,” I tell him, and the last thing I say – my minuscule gift of acknowledgment – is his name.
The silver lining in this story? I’m still looking for it.
Dec
8
A Different Christmas Poem
Filed Under American Patriotism, Christmas, Life, Today's War | 1 Comment
by Michael Marks
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
“What are you doing?” I asked without fear,
“Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said “Its really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night.”
“It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ‘ Pearl on a day in December,”
Then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘ Nam ‘,
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue… an American flag.
“I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.”
“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
“Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done, For
being away from your wife and your son.”
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, “
Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.
Please, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.
LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One