Ok, it happened again. I changed my profile photo on Facebook to one that shows me in uniform - a change of pace if you will. Well, just tonight I got "thanked for my service". A person who knew me back when I was a gangly, 110# teen with a big head and little coordination...came right out of the woodwork and sent me an email - "thanks for your service"....(by the way, if you happen to read this Kris, you are my inspiration tonight!)
I have always had a problem with that. Not that it gets me upset or that I am mad at anybody. It is just one of the few things which makes me embarrassed. I laughed last year when talk of the Draft came up, and rolled on the floor when there was discussion here in the past few weeks about national public service. Both altruistic ideas, but service for the sake of service...or better yet, service for the sake of making yourself feel better about life, or still better yet service for the sake of padding a resume....all concepts that are empty headed, shallow hearted, and just plain demonstrative of a lack of character. I never joined the Navy for the glory of the common good. I went to the Naval Academy to have them pay for my education. Quid Pro Quo. Turns out that the price I had to pay was far steeper than an education, and I needed a better reason to be there. What I found was that for all of the concepts that the military embodies that the left so violently abhor, appealed to me. Hard work yields results. We do more before 6am than most people do all day. Be all that you can be. The few, the proud.... It was an elite club of individuals with honor, integrity, strength and standards - and if you didn't meet them, you were shown the door. There was always a clear idea of "continued strong performance" yielding advancement. Now while in my case things didn't always work out that way, I have come to the point where I look back on my career and see nothing but adventures, escapades, difficulties and good times...but never did I see a time where I felt I made a true sacrifice.
There were times in Iraq where I thought about it. I was never in combat, but the few patrols I did make outside the wire gave pause to examine that. You can't help driving down Route Irish and thinking "what if" and imagine yourself returning fire, helping a downed teammate, or even being on the losing end of a battle. Yes, being away from Shannon and the boys was a sacrifice - but once again, I always felt like I was lucky - I spoke with them almost every night, I came back from the desert in better shape than I had been in years, and Shannon and I were closer in our relationship than we had been in a long time. From my vantage point, I have seen myself be the recipient of wonderous gifts of adventure and freedom - granted I paid a price, but a price that I thought was fair. When you are walking out of a Lowes, does the manager run up to you and take you by the hand to personally thank you for buying that $1.69 wax toilet ring? Of course not - he thanked you by giving you a good that you needed to fix your toilet and in return you thanked him for building the store, stocking the shelves and paying the employees by giving him money to cover the cost of that ring, plus a profit. My profit has been in the man I have become - I am not that scared, shy young man I was at 17. While I am still a little reserved, I don't hesitate to make a fool out of myself in front of Derek - embarrassing teenagers in public is fun!!!
I have always managed to run into those who haven't profited as much as I have. One of the guys I was talking with on Thursday at Scouts is an enlisted Army Communications tech. He did a year in Iraq in the 05 - 06 timeframe. All of his unit were trained as combat medics, and when the dining hall in Mosul took a mortar and over 200 were injured, he and his team responded. He told me that just a few feet from where his team was setting up a satellite dish, he was pulled into the fight to save people - walking around the corner, there were hundreds of bodies on the ground - lined up for treatment, some already covered. He worked as hard as he could for a couple of hours, had some die in his arms, before he had to get up and walk away. The price he was paying was too high for him to go on. I think about Ross - who even over 10 years since he was "in country" so to speak - doing the dirty work that his country asked him to - still wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, in a cold sweat. I think of the you tube clip we all watched - Dear Mr. Obama - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TG4fe9GlWS8 He paid a huge price, but strangely, still supported his decisions and the effort of the troops. Lastly, I think about the heroes that paid the ultimate sacrifice. Cindy Sheehan claimed she was fighting for her son Casey, but I seem to think that Casey would have wanted his mom to sit down and shut the hell up. Not that everyone wanted to be there, not that the war was effectively fought, nor that we couldn't learn from our mistakes there. But for the sake of those people like Medal of Honor recipient Jason Dunham who gave his life in smothering an enemy grenade to save the lives of his fellow Marines, the price was immense - I would guess that in that split second he determined that he had profited more in living his life the way he chose, than the price he chose to put on the table at that moment.
It is a selfish view, and for that I am always a little embarrassed. What I did wind up telling Kris however, is that I have always been happy to live this life. But I would gladly accept her thanks on behalf of those who have paid more. I guess this little blog is an attempt to pass her thanks along.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
A new beginning
Huan told me I should be a writer....Mom said she missed my blogs...I don't know whether it has been the confrontation I had tonight with a pompous idiot "assistant scoutmaster" who is playing God over whether Derek has adequately completed a communications merit badge requirement, or the election, or any one of a number of things, but I have been thinking for quite some time that I need to write again. If nothing else, for my sanity.
In Iraq, I didn't have to search for meaning - purpose and value were abound because every morning you woke up after a night of random incoming shells was a good day. Even the mindless tasks of generating reports served to save lives. Back in the "real world" adults get upset and argue over whether or not a 15 year old has written "enough" of a letter to meet the requirements of a Boy Scout Merit Badge. One could argue that the "real world" is back in the combat zone.
It is why PSTD is such a phenomenon - not that trauma isn't real....it is too real. Winston Churchill (the US Navy officer, not the British PM) once wrote that "there is nothing so exhiliarating as to be shot at without result". It is the meaningless BS that we all insulate ourselves with in order to make it through the day without killing someone who desperately needs to meet their maker. Whether that insulation is self righteous indignation, self importance, paperwork, process or scotch... it all serves the same purpose.
It has been two years ago this month that I finally and permanently returned from the war zone. I am now fifteen pounds heavier, slower, greyer, and older. Age is of course relative - I am so in awe of my sister. Here I am dealing with my minimal problems - the worst of which has to do with 401Ks, retirement plans, where the paycheck will be spent in terms of credit cards, and making sure that the "lawn service" is still within our budget - and after so much pain of miscarriage, she mentioned today that she was able to run two miles at a nine minute pace while dealing with a raging headache. In the meantime, yours truly - the "warrior" Naval Officer, continues to "pass" the Physical Fitness Test, while barely being able to maintain a 10 minute pace on the treadmill for a mile and a half.....
I guess that a piece of me is having to deal with the reasons I stay in this organization. A piece of me will die this January as I am forced to acknowledge "Chairman O" as our commander in chief. Granted, I think his overall performance and success (or failure) will result in the pendulum swinging back to the right and a re-invigoration of the conservative movement. I question however whether or not what I do and where I will leave the Navy in three years will mean anything. The short answer of course is obvious - short of having a ship or building named after you, one's legacy has far more to do with those you leave behind and what you have taught them...even if your career only serves to mark the shoals for others to avoid. The longer answer has to do with your own personal reasons for sticking it out in the long run. I am still wrestling with that. Has there been a purpose to the last 16 years? Am I punching a clock or am I making a difference? Paper or plastic? Do these questions even matter?
In the end, I guess it only has to do with those who know you best, and what they think of the effect you have had on their lives. I am working on that, and have much time to work on that. I cling for the moment to the goals I try to meet - most notably, I will be in better shape (insert definition here - economic, physical, or otherwise) at forty, than at thirty. XM has a new channel - the Margaritaville Channel. Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude comes to mind -
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
God I wish I was sailin again
Oh, yesterdays over my shoulder
So I cant look back for too long
Theres just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just cant go wrong
In Iraq, I didn't have to search for meaning - purpose and value were abound because every morning you woke up after a night of random incoming shells was a good day. Even the mindless tasks of generating reports served to save lives. Back in the "real world" adults get upset and argue over whether or not a 15 year old has written "enough" of a letter to meet the requirements of a Boy Scout Merit Badge. One could argue that the "real world" is back in the combat zone.
It is why PSTD is such a phenomenon - not that trauma isn't real....it is too real. Winston Churchill (the US Navy officer, not the British PM) once wrote that "there is nothing so exhiliarating as to be shot at without result". It is the meaningless BS that we all insulate ourselves with in order to make it through the day without killing someone who desperately needs to meet their maker. Whether that insulation is self righteous indignation, self importance, paperwork, process or scotch... it all serves the same purpose.
It has been two years ago this month that I finally and permanently returned from the war zone. I am now fifteen pounds heavier, slower, greyer, and older. Age is of course relative - I am so in awe of my sister. Here I am dealing with my minimal problems - the worst of which has to do with 401Ks, retirement plans, where the paycheck will be spent in terms of credit cards, and making sure that the "lawn service" is still within our budget - and after so much pain of miscarriage, she mentioned today that she was able to run two miles at a nine minute pace while dealing with a raging headache. In the meantime, yours truly - the "warrior" Naval Officer, continues to "pass" the Physical Fitness Test, while barely being able to maintain a 10 minute pace on the treadmill for a mile and a half.....
I guess that a piece of me is having to deal with the reasons I stay in this organization. A piece of me will die this January as I am forced to acknowledge "Chairman O" as our commander in chief. Granted, I think his overall performance and success (or failure) will result in the pendulum swinging back to the right and a re-invigoration of the conservative movement. I question however whether or not what I do and where I will leave the Navy in three years will mean anything. The short answer of course is obvious - short of having a ship or building named after you, one's legacy has far more to do with those you leave behind and what you have taught them...even if your career only serves to mark the shoals for others to avoid. The longer answer has to do with your own personal reasons for sticking it out in the long run. I am still wrestling with that. Has there been a purpose to the last 16 years? Am I punching a clock or am I making a difference? Paper or plastic? Do these questions even matter?
In the end, I guess it only has to do with those who know you best, and what they think of the effect you have had on their lives. I am working on that, and have much time to work on that. I cling for the moment to the goals I try to meet - most notably, I will be in better shape (insert definition here - economic, physical, or otherwise) at forty, than at thirty. XM has a new channel - the Margaritaville Channel. Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude comes to mind -
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
God I wish I was sailin again
Oh, yesterdays over my shoulder
So I cant look back for too long
Theres just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just cant go wrong
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