Today, Memorial Day, is a day when we are
asked to remember those who died while serving in the armed forces. Knowing
this, I am compelled to think about my high school buddy, Bruce Kline, who was
shot down while piloting a helicopter in Vietnam. When I visited the great
black granite wall that is the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., I found Bruce’s
engraved name and, I must admit, I couldn’t hold back the tears. He was a good
guy and he deserved to have a good, long life.
While I’m in a confessional frame of mind, I might
as well admit that I also lost my composure recently while I was speaking to a
Rollins class about my days as an anti-Vietnam War protestor. In that
discussion, I referred to Bill, a friend whom I met in 2004 when I traveled to
Vietnam. Bill was a marine during the war and told me about the time when he
tripped a booby trap wire while on patrol. The explosion permanently damaged Bill’s
foot and killed his buddy who was walking behind him. Bill was crushed. He had
felt that his life had, in a way, lacked purpose. But his
buddy, for whose death he felt responsible, had been a good man with a wife and
family and a promising future. Bill genuinely wished that the explosion had killed him instead of his friend. He visited Vietnam multiple times on trips
that offered therapeutic advice for veterans. Survivor’s guilt continued to haunt
him.
That story so touches me that every time I think
about it, I have to fight back the tears, and I actually lost that fight during
my talk with the Rollins students. So, right then and there, out the window went
my tough, macho image.
People who know me well are aware that I was very much
against the Vietnam War and, in fact, I was discharged from the Navy in 1967
when I made it clear to my superior officers that my anti-war sentiments were
so intense that I would be nothing but trouble in the service.
But my anger at our government for dragging us
into unjustified wars on the basis of duplicitous fear-mongering does not
mean that I don’t feel for those men and women who put their lives on the line
when called to do so. So, here’s to you, Bruce and Bill and Bill’s friend - even
though I never knew you. I admire all of you for your courage and discipline.
The same goes, of course, for those who served in
World War II, a justified war if there ever was one. This includes Dad, who
served stateside as a pilot in the Army Air Force, and his younger brother John,
who was wounded while fighting the Nazis in France. Dad’s older brother Phil
was in the merchant marine, which was not technically military service, but
just as vital to the war effort and just as dangerous.
So yes, I have strong pacifist impulses, but I can’t
help but honor those who willingly put life and limb at risk during wartime. However,
I also have concerns about the way we sometimes think about war. This
thinking is all too often focused on the word “warrior,” a word toward which I
feel an acute wariness. There is an implication in this word which suggests glory
in battle but, from the accounts of many veterans, I have concluded that
whatever glory is to be found in the maelstrom of killing and dying inherent to combat,
glory is a rare and fleeting thing.
Rather than warriors, I see people like Dad and
the other veterans as citizen soldiers, people who have set aside their
civilian lives to take part in a national effort that tragically brings death
and destruction to multitudes. My image of the ideal soldier is not that of a
bold and glorious warrior, but rather that suggested by cartoonist Bill Mauldin’s
characters Willie and Joe.
In addition to Bill Mauldin’s wonderful World War
II cartoons, there is a movie that for me captures the ideal of the citizen
combatant: The Story of G.I. Joe.
This film comes from the writings of the war correspondent Ernie Pyle, who was renowned for his ability to capture the essence of ordinary men and women
in theaters of war. Ernie, by the way, was tragically killed during combat in
the Pacific.
The Story of
G.I. Joe was based on real incidents. It stars Robert Mitchum and brings to
life vivid images of ordinary men asked to do extraordinary things. We come to
feel for these men as they pursue their quest, the central one of which is to
not get killed as they do their duty. But some of them do die in the process,
and when they do, it is not as glorious warriors, but rather as brave and
decent human beings doing something they deeply wish they didn’t have to do in
order that we all might live better lives.
So again, here’s to you, men and women, living and
dead, who have served with courage during wartime. Please understand that my
reluctance to use the word “warrior” is in no way meant to disparage what you
do and what you have done as you serve in defense of our Democracy.
Dad in pilot gear, ca. 1942
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