This was written on the bus just after I had said goodbye to Michelle and the kids, and left Smyrna, TN for Ft. Benning, GA en route to Iraq.
I would have thought that going to war would be less like my freshman year of college.
As of this morning I am officially headed off to fight the war on terror. Admittedly, I’m not even one day into it, but here I sit on a Greyhound-style bus with laptop, cell phone and mp3 player at the ready, and Facebook just a few cell phone clicks away thinking how different today’s war is from the Old Days. I don’t have internet access on this bus, and I am anticipating several stretches of time over the next year that I’ll be offline. But once I get to where I’m going (Kirkuk, Iraq), there’s at least a reasonable internet connection, which means I’ll have Skype (the War 2.0 soldier’s favorite communication tool), movies to download (sorry, Hollywood) and games galore (because all that Warcraft’s not going to play itself). I’m also told there will be a significant amount of down time in between missions and to expect to fill that time with extra-curricular activities like working out, reading, playing video games, etc. So…less chance of sitting behind a hot chick in class, and ever-so-slightly higher chance of dying, but other than that, strong intimations of that glorious entry into collegiate academia (if I can even call my freshman year that.)
The odd thing is, a small part of me feels cheated. As cliché and probably narcissistic as it sounds, one of the reasons I signed up for the Army almost ten years ago was pride. What I do just plain makes me feel good. As such it is emotionally significant to me every single time someone thanks me for my service, tells me they're proud of me, or buys me a drink somewhere. The first question everyone asks though is, “Have you been deployed?” I haven’t, and upon telling this to random strangers I inevitably feel like I’ve somehow disappointed them. It’s a bit like telling someone you’re a professional baseball player, which is awesome, then telling them you’ve never actually played in the game, which is not so awesome, and watching the subtle expression change. How much of this disappointment is inferred vs. implied? Probably most of it, held over from some unidentified pubescent emotional issue. But it’s real. This deployment was supposed to get rid of that feeling, and it certainly will. But as I sit and mull over how to describe the beginning of this grand experience, I feel once again like I’m going to disappoint whoever might read this.
This is a new war, from the very first goodbye. Consider that in WWII .307% (or right around 3 of every 1,000) of the entire US population died. In Vietnam it was .03% of the American population. In both of those wars (and to a progressively-lesser extent every conflict up until the current one) aside from the exceptionally infrequent phone call, soldiers’ primary and often only form of communication was letters, which were often sporadically delivered if at all, and took sometimes weeks to arrive. When you say goodbye to someone and you truly don’t know if you’ll ever see or hear from them again, the emotions are inexpressible and abundant. When you say goodbye to someone and your lines of communication are so open that you feel the need to obsessively keep your spouse updated by text message on the surprisingly-long battery life of your brand new (non-Apple) mp3 player, that’s a whole ‘nother thing entirely (incidentally, in Iraq to date, less than .001% of the population has died.)
This isn’t the time or place for a sociological exploration of the effects this major communications paradigm shift has on the psyche of the average soldier. But it is surely significant. And there are other significant changes that affect the fighters of this new war as well. Near-mandatory mid-tour R&R, stronger support structures for the families left behind, and more command emphasis on holistic emotional health all combine to make this surely the easiest war to fight yet from an emotional standpoint. But does “easiest” mean “easy”? The short answer is no.
There are still goodbyes. There is still distance. There is still an inability to physically comfort and connect with those closest to you in a time when it is needed most. I don't know what the next year will hold. I'm headed to war, but what does that even mean these days? Will it be more like my freshman year of college or the books about war I read during it? At the end of the deployment, will I feel that I’ve done enough to warrant the thanks and appreciation of random strangers and family members alike? I guess we’ll find out together.
The odd thing is, a small part of me feels cheated. As cliché and probably narcissistic as it sounds, one of the reasons I signed up for the Army almost ten years ago was pride. What I do just plain makes me feel good. As such it is emotionally significant to me every single time someone thanks me for my service, tells me they're proud of me, or buys me a drink somewhere. The first question everyone asks though is, “Have you been deployed?” I haven’t, and upon telling this to random strangers I inevitably feel like I’ve somehow disappointed them. It’s a bit like telling someone you’re a professional baseball player, which is awesome, then telling them you’ve never actually played in the game, which is not so awesome, and watching the subtle expression change. How much of this disappointment is inferred vs. implied? Probably most of it, held over from some unidentified pubescent emotional issue. But it’s real. This deployment was supposed to get rid of that feeling, and it certainly will. But as I sit and mull over how to describe the beginning of this grand experience, I feel once again like I’m going to disappoint whoever might read this.
This is a new war, from the very first goodbye. Consider that in WWII .307% (or right around 3 of every 1,000) of the entire US population died. In Vietnam it was .03% of the American population. In both of those wars (and to a progressively-lesser extent every conflict up until the current one) aside from the exceptionally infrequent phone call, soldiers’ primary and often only form of communication was letters, which were often sporadically delivered if at all, and took sometimes weeks to arrive. When you say goodbye to someone and you truly don’t know if you’ll ever see or hear from them again, the emotions are inexpressible and abundant. When you say goodbye to someone and your lines of communication are so open that you feel the need to obsessively keep your spouse updated by text message on the surprisingly-long battery life of your brand new (non-Apple) mp3 player, that’s a whole ‘nother thing entirely (incidentally, in Iraq to date, less than .001% of the population has died.)
This isn’t the time or place for a sociological exploration of the effects this major communications paradigm shift has on the psyche of the average soldier. But it is surely significant. And there are other significant changes that affect the fighters of this new war as well. Near-mandatory mid-tour R&R, stronger support structures for the families left behind, and more command emphasis on holistic emotional health all combine to make this surely the easiest war to fight yet from an emotional standpoint. But does “easiest” mean “easy”? The short answer is no.
There are still goodbyes. There is still distance. There is still an inability to physically comfort and connect with those closest to you in a time when it is needed most. I don't know what the next year will hold. I'm headed to war, but what does that even mean these days? Will it be more like my freshman year of college or the books about war I read during it? At the end of the deployment, will I feel that I’ve done enough to warrant the thanks and appreciation of random strangers and family members alike? I guess we’ll find out together.
You guys are amazing. I am so proud of you, your service, and your openness about this season of your life. ...One comment about something you said...that you felt like people were disappointed when you said that you'd never served? If I ever gave you that impression, I'm SO sorry...'cause I WASN'T disappointed. But maybe that's not disapproval or disappointment, but rather RELIEF that you see on their faces? That's what would be running through MY mind... :) Much love to you guys!
ReplyDeleteGreat post...I certainly understand your mixed feelings on the subject. It's something you probably can't resolve except by the sheer volume of sincere and simple gratitude you receive. But, for what it's worth, I am proud of you and appreciate your sacrifice. It is still war, after all. Not everyone is cut out to do it.
ReplyDelete