As Veterans’ Day approaches, each year I involuntarily reflect on my time, the brothers I made, the experiences I had, and try to take stock of what it all means to me today.
Was it worth it?
Are the chronically bad knees, aching back, ringing ears, stabbing shoulder pain, and endless nights tossing and turning because I feel the demons calling me really worth it? Does America really give a damn?
It’s common nowadays for vets to be thanked for their service, especially around Memorial and Veterans’ Day. And for many of us, it’s awkward. We don’t know how to respond or even how it is meant. All too often, it comes off as a requirement demanded by some weird social convention. Rarely does it feel truly authentic.
I understand this acknowledgement is a correction to the way the Vietnam veterans were treated –– maybe an overcorrection. Unlike their fathers who came home to tickertape parades and the undying gratitude of an entire world, Vietnam veterans were treated like outcasts and criminals.
Beginning my service during the First Gulf War, I saw a deliberate effort to change that way of thinking. Protesters at the time were very adamant that they opposed the war, not the troops tasked with fighting it. Yellow ribbons and signs saying “Support the Troops” were everywhere.
And now, Support the Troops has evolved into “Thank you for your service”.
Many of my veteran friends feel the same way. It comes off as rehearsed and insincere to our tinnitus-damaged ears. Maybe we’re hearing it wrong, but body language often reinforces our initial perception.
Many of us don’t know what to do. Responses vary from a polite “Thank you” to an awkward smile and silence that sometimes hides a quiet anger. An Iraq veteran confides that they wouldn’t be thanking him if they knew what he had to do while he was in the service.
This is not meant to be an attack on individuals who thank veterans. I’m sure most Americans are authentic in their gratitude and sincerely mean it. But what about America as a whole? When taken as a nation, the sentiment rings hollow.
Sun-Tzu said that when a nation goes to war, the entire nation must go to war, not just the warrior class. Everyone must make the necessary sacrifices to ensure total victory on the battlefield. World War Two was the last time that we did that. Civilians went without so that the military would not.
But in the conflicts since, that has not been the case. The Vietnam War directly affected only about three percent of the population; during the War on Terror, it was only one percent.
During World War Two, there was a clearly defined objective and a plan to accomplish it. In Vietnam, no such plan. Even before that conflict began, Pentagon officials knew, and warned, political leaders that it could not be won. Yet, they were still sent.
After 9/11, the goal was clear –– kill bin Laden and destroy al Qaeda. But that mission got sidetracked by a new one in Iraq. And neither were clearly thought out by the politicians. There was no political will to do what had to be done. And when it became too hard and unpopular, we cut and run.
This is not the fault of the military. When engaging the enemy, the odds are usually overwhelmingly in our favor. No. It’s the politicians that sell us out. They decide it’s no longer worth risking their power to continue and we quit, leaving devastation and resentment behind in an undefeated enemy.
As volunteers, we understand what may ultimately be asked of us. And we understand and have accepted that fate. The American soldier has accepted the fact he may be asked to die to defend an ally. But sending us to die for nothing, to let that ally down, is unforgiveable.
To truly thank our veterans, it is incumbent upon the American people, as the ultimate authority, to hold political leaders accountable and ensure our lives are not wasted for some misguided and mismanaged foreign adventure. And when we come home, there needs to be an unfettered infrastructure to provide us with the help we need, physically and psychologically.
So was it worth it? Was it worth the sacrifices made?
You tell me.
