Veterans and Peace - A Tribute

[Zomby Woof]

(Note from author: It is still Veterans Day in my time zone, and I wish to pay tribute before the day is done...)

As of this writing, the majority of Americans have serious doubts and misgivings concerning the United States occupation of Iraq. Even some of the firmest supporters of the invasion are given pause at the 87 billion reasons being offered for furthering the certainty of more casualties - for Iraqi citizens and occupying soldiers alike - plus dealing with the grave pratfalls in restoring stability and administering self-government, or any kind of government at all. The word "quagmire" is back in the national vernacular, after three decades of rest. The fence-straddlers who blurred the true definition of patriotism with nationalist loyalty and reluctantly supporting the invasion may be coming down on the side of peace, or perhaps the quiet admission that perhaps there was a better way.

Perhaps.

On November 11, 2003, it has been 85 years since the Armistice was signed in Versailles, France, to formally end that war that was to "end all wars".

If only it came to pass.

On this late autumn day, let us devote ourselves to contemplating peace and the defense of pacifistic values. When doing so, take time to consider the sacrifices of our veterans. For some peace activists, it is easy to dismiss or devalue the contributions of those who engaged in warfare itself, those who took very direct parts in the very acts we seek to end with our endeavours. This is a sad mistake, for veterans, a diverse a body of humanity as can be conceived, are, and were, human beings put into the position of doing the inhumane. On many occasions, the inhumane led to the worse offense: Dehumanization. Dehumanization and objectification of the self, and the other, the "enemy". Killing and violence become sacrosanct, and routine, acceptable means of solving problems and resolving deep disputes regarding territory, resources, and perhaps to the utmost folly, disputes of ideology.

There is a reason many veterans, while seeking recognition and validation for their service, are also quite reluctant to discuss their memories of staring into the deep abyss of inhumanity and bloodshed, and its accompanying chaos and depravity of the soul.

It is tempting to contrast the almost universally accepted moral clarity of World War II with the troublesome uncertainty of the current Iraqi occupation. In the shadow of that contrast, comes the temptation to regard those currently in harm's way in terms as dehumanizing as war itself - as "pawns", "mercenaries", "killers", and countless variations of the same degrading themes. Why is this so? Though I seek peace and hold fast to the utopian vision of a day where no soldiers exist or are needed, I do live in this very real, and very troubled world, in which they do exist, and are needed. As a citizen of this world, even while conceiving of one better, I am aware of the paradox of a soldier's duty: To serve as just one person in an organized and disciplined mass of people, singular figures uniformly uniformed, armed for violence, and ordered to kill, all the while being a uniquely honed, beautiful human being, with all the potential we all possess at birth. War disfigures, distorts, and destroys this potential.

The lesson herein is that peace is difficult to achieve, harder to maintain, but fortunately for us all, even harder to prevent.

It is no paradox though, that war veterans, who have seen and experienced horrors we dare not imagine, can and often do, make the best advocates of peace. When a war veteran speaks up for peace in Iraq, like the 104 year old Australian World War I soldier, who has lived to see too many wars to end all wars, we listen. Intently. When my father, a veteran of Vietnam, speaks of the eerie parallels between that war and the current situation, I listen, even more intently. Heed the lessons of those who were engaged in war, when you contemplate peace.

This is a time for asserting our mutual values, whether a veteran or a peace activist. Perhaps the peace activist is like many of you, or myself, who has never known the horrors of war, but wants it prevented just as much as if we have. We are grateful that we never have been subjected to such toil and hardship, which makes our appreciation of those who have much more potent, and necessary.

With this appreciation of the service of veterans, let us remember as well, that peace is a position of strength.

Acknowledging that the culture of war runs deep in our social fabric, it has to be noted that there is still far too much romanticizing and a masculinized rite-of-passage mythos attached to war. Let the many young future soldiers know, that we hope you do not need to experience war firsthand to learn that it is not romantic, or a requisite rite of adulthood or acculturation.

So in remembrance of those who did experience war, do yourself a favor and ask a living veteran about the glory and romance of combat. There are more reasons than declared here that they make some of the best peace advocates, and we should always welcome their insight and hard-won wisdom, born in fire.

May this current crisis of peace pass, if not by next November 11th, then the next.

May Veterans Day only be a reminder of past wars, and only past ones.

Thank you veterans, and may peace prevail.

[9215]

1. Very well said

and thanks.

I'm a Vietnam Era Veteran. Sometimes I think experiencing living in a non-democratic environment like the military gives one perspective--something to compare and contrast.

All I wanted to do was get out and go to college. I turned against the war after I was in, and was neutral before.

I almost bought it on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier a number of times where organizational pressure was pushing the crew to do more in less time, I reacted by being unforgiving with shipmates who had their heads up their asses. Zero tolerance for space cases, we would sent them back to Squadron HQ if they fucked up. A friend of mine was electrocuted and left a wife and two little ones behind. The flight deck is a very dangerous place to be. I was an Aviation Electrician on the Forrestal and in 1967, before I was on, while on station in the Gulf of Tonkin an electrical short on an aircraft with its armament loaded fired off a missile that went across the flight deck and blew up another aircraft.This set off a chain reaction of explosions that nearly forced the crew to abandon ship. A couple a hundred guys got killed as bombs rolled across the deck and blew up punching holes down several decks.
I slept under the flight deck one level so the aircraft were landing right above us. You could not sleep during air-ops which could go on for hours on end day and night.

When I came home my family was aghast at my haggard, exhausted appearance my mother wanted to phone our Congressman. It took me a couple of weeks to get "acclimated" after returning home from a cruise. At sea the crew was continually getting sick from colds going around, dirty dishes, etc. but generally just pure exhaustion. 12 on 12 off shifts seven days a week at sea.
On my second cruise I worked the night shift in intermediate maintenance and sometimes didn't see the sun for a week or more.
On

When we went on liberty I was always amazed at how fast people could get shitfaced, slamming drinks as fast as they would go down, drugs or whatever. As a mess deck petty officer I saw a sailor and and a marine get in a fight on the Mess Deck and the marine slammed a drinking glass in the sailors face sending the shards through his own hand and the sailors eye. There was so much blood on the deck I couldn't get my footing to seperate them. The sailor was black the marine white and the space quickly divided between white and black with people grabbing chairs for weapons. I knew alot of the black guys on a first name basis and managed to calm things down.

The ship had a crew of 6,000. I went before the Skipper at the sailors Captain's Mast and he commended me for my handling of situation: "Thanks, you kept things from getting out of hand, you're doing a good job down there".

The big question in my mind after this was "Who or what are we fighting here"?

On the lighter side was some funny as hell goings on. At sea, sailors like to play cards and bet on things. We used to bet on how long it would take a newbie to get seasick. Often this was done when we were playing cards and the newbie/recruit would take on that "green around the gills" look, then the "salts" (guys on one cruise or more) would bet on how long before he tossed his cookies. You could get pretty good at timing this after being around awhile.

On the beach the last day in port sometimes thousands of sailors would be milling around the docks drunk, feisty and impatient to get on a liberty launch. One day while on shore patrol a sailor fell or was knocked off of the dock and the liberty launch crushed him up against the bulkhead. Somebody grabbed a gaffhook and heave hoed him, with the help of friends, back on the dock; he got a concussion and couple of broken ribs. Shit like this was always going on.

Once a liberty launch, also called a dory, with a canvas rain cover cleared the breakwater, those who were drunk would often get sick when the boat started tossing in a choppy sea. There were about 100 guys in a dory packed in like sardines and as somebody got sick there was this mad shuffling to get his head over to the gunnl' before he barfed. Failure to do this would lead to him puking all over his shipmates and the smell would then induce others to barfing in a chain reaction. :puke:

Another time on Shore Patrol I, and a big Oklahoma farm boy had a beat and we got trapped in downtown Athens during the Cyprus Crisis riots and were nearly mobbed by some very pissed off Greek nationals. We hauled ass and I was looking for someone, or a clothesline (clothes often hung out the windows) to steal their clothes from when we happened upon a phone booth. I wanted to blend into the crowd in the worst way. I dialed the headquarters for an evac. Luckily the Shore Patrol beat commander (forgot the term) was prescient enough to use a civilian auto to pick us up and we jumped in before the mob knew what was happening.

"Shit is on the skids, were getting out ASAP", he said quickly. I could of kissed the guy. He probably saved me and the farm boy's life.

[Zomby Woof]

3. that's a fantastic story

Thanks for sharing - it was vivid and stark. All the vets of DU are appreciated.

[Desertrose]

2. Thanks, Zomby!

:hi:

This was really excellent...you should send it to the Flag VFP...I can get ya the email...let me know:)


Let Peace Prevail!!!!!

:loveya:
DesertMom

[Zomby Woof]

4. I'll hold it to next year

I don't want to edit out the references to November 11th, and it will seem silly getting it in late. :o

But I have this bookmarked, so I can make a minor change or two, especially as Iraq changes.

Thanks D-mom! :loveya:

[Zomby Woof]

5. *cough*

'scuse me.

[blm]

6. Wow...that was a beautiful piece.

You're a very fine writer.

[Zomby Woof]

7. thanks blm!

:hi: