A Fine Line
“Welcome,” he cried, “to the Halls of Valhalla, where
Everyone struggles for naught but their name.
Trifling contrivances here are forbidden,
And no one is different, and no one’s the same.”
-Elmwood, from Paradise
I can’t bring myself to complain much about this place for very long. This is a very easy war, compared to how most of my forbears fought them. We’ve got our video games, our books, our movies and our hot food. We are much safer, and much more often. We’ve lost so few compared to other fights.
And in a way, this place is pure and whole in a way that America is not. I don’t mean the physical location, but the life here. No traffic or bank lines or stupidity. No hassles. Just killing and business of supporting the killers. No wasted time, no frittered thought. Eat. Sleep. Smoke. Convoy. Patrol. Raid. Lock and load. Drink water. Clean rifle. Maintain equipment. Watch your six. Watch the crowd. Incoming. Check your buddies. Shoot or don’t shoot, but decide fast.
Simple. Quick. Brutal. Direct and spartan and very spiritual.
I contrast this with the crap I see going on back home. It seems like about 90% of the country is not aware there’s a war going on. Why are there no war bonds being sold? Why are our leaders not issuing a call to service? Not a draft, but a “hey, why don’t you give back to your country for a little while?” Why are people not collecting clothes and stuff for the children of Iraq?
I see millions of people still trying desperately to define themselves through what they watch or eat or wear or say, or what kind of cellphone they say it on. There is a growing discord in our country, and nobody is talking about it, or perhaps they are, but it’s in whispers. Those who serve and those whom they serve. The disciplined and hardworking…and the flabby and impatient and lazy. The noble few who place their mortal bodies between the horrors of war and their loved ones……and everybody else. All the flag-waving and slogan T-shirts and patriotic country songs in the world won’t change the fact that many Americans seem to look down on the military. We are warmongers and practitioners of an increasingly obsolete and disgusting art. At best, we are unwitting stooges of corporate fat cats. Many schools won’t permit ROTC or recruiters on campus now. The glitterati and academic intelligentsia stereotype us. Why? What is so stupid or undesirable about this life?
I like this life. I like everything about it. All of my meetings and disputes and arguments and stress really mean something. Most people have stress and meetings and work hard on projects, and for what? So another khaki ad can get thrown in our faces? So the seven-hundredth article this month about the president’s new bill can get proofread? So another off-brand ibuprofen tablet can be rushed to market? So all those transactions of electrons can be completed? So they can earn more money to buy crap they don’t need? That’s not real, none of it.
I am living the life, here. I am miserable and lonely and miss my home and my family, but we’re doing the Lord’s work here, catching and killing servants of evil. Don’t pity me or worry for me. Envy me. I am a young man at war. This is my place. This is paradise.
Everyone struggles for naught but their name.
Trifling contrivances here are forbidden,
And no one is different, and no one’s the same.”
-Elmwood, from Paradise
I can’t bring myself to complain much about this place for very long. This is a very easy war, compared to how most of my forbears fought them. We’ve got our video games, our books, our movies and our hot food. We are much safer, and much more often. We’ve lost so few compared to other fights.
And in a way, this place is pure and whole in a way that America is not. I don’t mean the physical location, but the life here. No traffic or bank lines or stupidity. No hassles. Just killing and business of supporting the killers. No wasted time, no frittered thought. Eat. Sleep. Smoke. Convoy. Patrol. Raid. Lock and load. Drink water. Clean rifle. Maintain equipment. Watch your six. Watch the crowd. Incoming. Check your buddies. Shoot or don’t shoot, but decide fast.
Simple. Quick. Brutal. Direct and spartan and very spiritual.
I contrast this with the crap I see going on back home. It seems like about 90% of the country is not aware there’s a war going on. Why are there no war bonds being sold? Why are our leaders not issuing a call to service? Not a draft, but a “hey, why don’t you give back to your country for a little while?” Why are people not collecting clothes and stuff for the children of Iraq?
I see millions of people still trying desperately to define themselves through what they watch or eat or wear or say, or what kind of cellphone they say it on. There is a growing discord in our country, and nobody is talking about it, or perhaps they are, but it’s in whispers. Those who serve and those whom they serve. The disciplined and hardworking…and the flabby and impatient and lazy. The noble few who place their mortal bodies between the horrors of war and their loved ones……and everybody else. All the flag-waving and slogan T-shirts and patriotic country songs in the world won’t change the fact that many Americans seem to look down on the military. We are warmongers and practitioners of an increasingly obsolete and disgusting art. At best, we are unwitting stooges of corporate fat cats. Many schools won’t permit ROTC or recruiters on campus now. The glitterati and academic intelligentsia stereotype us. Why? What is so stupid or undesirable about this life?
I like this life. I like everything about it. All of my meetings and disputes and arguments and stress really mean something. Most people have stress and meetings and work hard on projects, and for what? So another khaki ad can get thrown in our faces? So the seven-hundredth article this month about the president’s new bill can get proofread? So another off-brand ibuprofen tablet can be rushed to market? So all those transactions of electrons can be completed? So they can earn more money to buy crap they don’t need? That’s not real, none of it.
I am living the life, here. I am miserable and lonely and miss my home and my family, but we’re doing the Lord’s work here, catching and killing servants of evil. Don’t pity me or worry for me. Envy me. I am a young man at war. This is my place. This is paradise.
posted by Battler03 at 11:25 AM
3 Comments:
nephew,
As you ask, I do not pity. In fact, I am very proud. But, I do worry. That is an uncle's prerogative. We are fine.
uncle
As the uncle-type person said, it is our job to worry. And most peole do realize there's a war going on. But it is one of those things we can't really alter, so we try to go on with our lives, like when there is an execution, sure I know it is happening, but I have to go on. I don't like it, but I can't change it either. If you don't figure how to go on, it will drive you nuts.
I love you, old man.
mom
I've been re-reading With the Old Breed at Peleliu and Okinawa by E.B. Sledge this week. (Sledge was in those WWII battles as a PFC in the 1st Marine Division). In his book, he has some of the same sentiments as you:
From pages 266-267:
"Some letters said simply that folks back in the States just don't understand what the hell it's all about, because they have it so easy....We were unable to understand their attitudes until we ourselves returned home and tried to comprehend people who griped because America wasn't perfect, or their coffee wasn't hot enough, or they had to stand in line and wait on a train or bus....We just wished that people back home could understand how lucky the were and stop complaining about trivial inconvenieces."
As always, best of luck to you and thank you for all that you're doing.
Post a Comment
<< Home