I observed November 11th this year by having a few beers with a long-time Army buddy who will soon be redeployed overseas. Without revealing too much about his job, let me just say that he isn’t in the rear with the gear: Wherever he goes next, he will be in the forefront of the fight, outnumbered, surrounded, and very isolated from the main force that could shield him from harm. He does this not just because it’s in his blood to do it or because he likes to challenge himself (though both these things are true) but because he feels that it is his duty to put himself in harm’s way so others won’t have to. It’s a calling. He is a soldier and that is all there is to it.
He and I didn’t talk about war though. We talked about things like purpose and integrity. About dealing with the annoying fact that we can only control so much, that our impact on the world cannot always be what we would like it to be. We talked about the inefficiencies of overbearing bureaucracies and the scourge of poor leadership. We talked about the epidemic of bullshit plaguing every facet of both the private and govt sectors, driven by the same breed of self-serving morons with delusions of grandeur that seems to breed in equal measure everywhere around the world. We talked about our dreams and frustrations, about what we would like to change and what we know cannot change, and about the need to do the right thing even when no one else (perhaps especially when no one else) will. Chatting with someone who understands that “the effective range of bullshit is exactly zero meters,” someone with the kind of integrity, quiet pride and hilarious honesty that is seldom found in the marketing world these days, was refreshing. It made me realize how much social media, marketing, PR and advertising – if not the business world in general – needs to swap some of its hordes of bullshit weavers for just a few handfuls of warrior poets, if only to even-out the scales a bit.
This year, I didn’t think as much about my grandfather, who fought in both World War I and World War II, or the sacrifices made for my country on and after D-Day, or my own military service. Not as much as I usually do. I didn’t even slip into my old uniform to march around the house and scare the pets half to death. This year, I thought about the men and women who serve in today’s wars, about the soldiers, first-responders, law-enforcement, and intelligence officers who were killed, injured or otherwise impacted by the post 9-11 conflicts, as well as their loved ones, who serve and sacrifice as much as they do – and often sacrifice much more. I thought about my buddies who are in theater now, putting their lives on the line – not bonuses or promotions or potentially lucrative contracts – Their lives. Perhaps for the first time in the last twenty years, I thought only about the veterans of my generation’s wars rather than veterans of the wars that came before my time. And perhaps for the first time since becoming aware of Armistice Day (the reason it falls on this date every year), I thought about it more on November 12th than I did on November 11th, and chances are that the 13th and 14th won’t be any different.
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As a soldier of 15 years, I was actually a musician and have played at commemorations all over the UK, I believe they achieve nothing, they certainly don’t stop the massive arms dealing that both the USA and UK engage in.
In 1988 the police ‘moved me on’ at a Colchester War Memorial because I was wearing a white poppy instead of a red one.
And our involvement in Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan stretch right back but are not taught in school. We seem to forget we supported and trained the Taliban during the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Indeed one of the Rambo movies still carries a dedication – ‘to the brave people of the Taliban in their struggle for freedom.’
Personally, I think Alan Bennett sums the insidious nature of commemorations up:
“The dead. The body count. We don’t like to admit the war was even partly our fault ’cause so many of our people died. And all the mourning’s veiled the truth. It’s not “lest we forget,” it’s “lest we remember.” That’s what all this is about — the memorials, the Cenotaph, the two minutes’ silence. Because there is no better way of forgetting something than by commemorating it.” (The History Boys)
Respectfully
Fair enough. Remember that we don’t commemorate war or the war machine. We commemorate people.
Rambo did, in fact, aid the Taliban in fighting the evil anti-Reagan soviets.😀 And yes, the war between “east” and west in the middle-east, from Turkey to the Hindu Kush has been going on forever. Alexander got his ass kicked in Afghanistan and had to make some serious compromises to get out in one piece. It all predates Christianity and Islam. Our cultures have been at odds with one another since we figured out how to sharpen sticks, it seems.
More and more, days like this become excuses to have a day off. In the US, banks and schools close and stores launch special sales. People go to the movies or simply go shopping. Very few folks actually go hang out with a veteran or visit the grave of a fallen family member, much less a neighbor’s. But you know, you can’t really expect civilians to do any of that. They don’t know what war is. They’ve never been in one. Nowadays, they don’t even have to give up anything for the war effort. Think back to WWII, even in the US: Manufacturing shifted. Food was rationed. The whole country supported the war effort in some way. Nowadays? You’re lucky to see ten seconds of video on the evening news. The collection bin at my local Starbucks – where you can buy then send coffee to troops – is about the only thing I have seen in a retail business that supports soldiers. Everything else is basically business as usual. Walking around, you would never know that the US is fighting two wars. That’s just how it is.
Soldiers have each other. We stand and sweat and bleed together. That’s our bond. So… we tend to observe days like this more than civvies. And some of us observe veterans’ day every day. It isn’t just a date on the calendar. It used to make me sad when I went to ceremonies and saw how few people showed up. You’d get the five or six token old guys from WWII, with their little hats covered in pins and the medals pinned to their coats. A few local dignitaries, maybe some youth group forced to attend. Not exactly a hero’s memorial. It’s probably been like that since the beginning of time.
I guess all we can do is remember. Even if we don’t show it, even if we can’t manage to make a spectacle of these ceremonies, we can just… remember. If I had fallen in battle, that’s really all I could ask for. Not being forgotten. And not being taken for granted.
Thanks for the comment, Nick.