Speak for Yourself

30 September 2005

–by Mike Murray

I had hoped that I’d be able to remain silent on this issue. I really did. This is a topic that divides people of good will into hostile, opposing camps.

I have no desire to descend to the level of those who have chosen to “play politics” with something so important; I have no desire to further inflame passions or to contribute to the state of polarization that currently infects our nation.

Convictions sincerely held are things that I respect. Whether you are liberal or conservative (which is not to say Democrat or Republican), if your beliefs are genuine, I will listen to what you have to say.

If, however, you are among those occupying the fanatic fringe, if you “hate the [other] party and everything it stands for,” or if you believe that those who do not share your particular religious beliefs are condemned for all eternity, well, I you and I don’t have much to discuss.

Still, I recognize that — even among those with whom I disagree — the intentions of most people are honorable. And besides, I’ve moved back and forth myself, a tad from the center, a few times over the years. Both of the major parties have managed to periodically tick me off.

I further recognize that my varying perceptions of U.S. military involvement over the years have probably had some correlation to my shifting political preferences. Where most people stand on the use of military force often is an outgrowth — at least to a degree — of their party affiliation. If “your” party occupies the White House you will likely view military intervention differently than if a member of “their” party commits our troops. It’s human nature.

I know, I know: There are some folks who are consistently hawkish or dovish. And there are still others who decide which party to ally themselves with based specifically upon candidates’ philosophies on national defense.

But I do not believe that such is typically the case. It seems to me that most folks pick a side because of “checkbook” issues, peer pressure, and the like, and then subsequently view the actions of elected officials through the biased lenses of their party loyalties.

A consideration of the heated, entrenched viewpoints held by many on this issue (so few minds are really open to change) — combined with its sensitive nature — had until now convinced me to hold my tongue. And I believe that “respect for the dead” calls for people to refrain from engaging in opportunistic chatter.

But so many have felt it their privilege to reach for the nearest megaphone and shout their views on what, exactly, America’s soldiers and sailors think and feel — often absurdly so, in my judgment — that I could remain silent no longer.

Our troops deserve so much better than the prattle of Monday-morning quarterbacks. They deserve so much more than to be used as the instruments of others’ political agendas, agendas that all-too often consist of little more than getting as many folks elected from one party or the other.

As a teenager approaching draft age (in an era that last had a draft), I paid close attention to the loud proclamations of those who argued against the continued deployment of our country’s military forces. Some of those voices belonged to veterans who’d actually served, who’d actually “worn the uniform.” But most of the clatter spewed from people who had not.

Some of the voices raised belonged to 18- and 19-year-old males who hoped to avoid receiving the dreaded “Greetings” notice from Uncle Sam. Some belonged to those who had sons — or brothers, or friends — of draft age. And some belonged to political enemies of the sitting president, people who were opposed to anything connected to him.

And, yes, many belonged then (as many belong now) to well-meaning folks who simply recoiled at the immense human cost incurred when soldiers go to war. The Henry Blake character on television’s version of M*A*S*H. said it well. He explained to Hawkeye Pierce that he was instructed thusly in Command School: “Rule Number One is that people die. Rule Number Two is that you can’t do anything about Rule Number One.”

The series was fictional, and was set specifically in Korea. But the words spoken by Lt. Colonel Blake’s character resonated with everyone who has ever served, anywhere.

The loss of even a single life is devastating. When someone close to you dies, your world is rocked. Rocked in the most terrible of ways. The loss of anyone dear — including close animal companions — leaves us grieving for long periods of time. It is certainly not my intention to trivialize anyone’s pain.

When it comes to loss, I’ve experienced my share. Beginning with the death of a grade-school chum (who drowned at his family’s picnic in the Metroparks), progressing through the loss of my father (who died when I was 12), to other friends (human and animal), relatives, and, yes, to comrades in arms, I’ve said good-bye to many souls who were dear to me.

I don’t wish the experience on anyone. But that desire is irrelevant; only those who die before attaining awareness of the world escape loss. We are all mortal. In each of our cases, the day will come when our number will come up. We will each of us die and bring grief to those who love us; before then, we will each of us end up saying farewell to those about whom we care deeply.

The question central to the current debate over our involvement in Iraq, really, involves purpose. Is what people die for “worth it?” It is a query to which many, in my opinion, have always been too cock-sure that they had the answer. When my own time came to serve in the military, I didn’t pretend to have such insight. But I did have one conviction: I believed that the most vocal of the pro-war supporters and the loudest of the anti-war protestors were similarly unprocessed of absolute wisdom.

What I was sure of is that I was a young man living in a free country, a country whose freedoms had been purchased and preserved by countless men and women who had gone before me. And I believed it my responsibility as a citizen to “take my turn.”

Sure, I saw the GI Bill benefits that accompanied service as a means to a college education. But a sense of duty was my overriding influence. Though the draft did not require it — my number (my birth date) not having been “selected” in the lottery — I enlisted.

At the time of my enlistment, the Army offered an option (“volunteering for the draft”) that mimicked draft conditions: two years of service with no guarantee of duty station or MOS (Military Occupational Specialty). Normal enlistees, those who signed up for three years or more, got to choose either a primary MOS or an initial duty station (most, of course, opting for state-side, non-combat assignments).

Volunteers like me were treated much like draftees: We served two-year hitches, we were trained for whatever jobs the Army determined us best suited, and we were sent wherever we were most needed. A notable difference is that we were designated “RA” (Regular Army), as were all other enlistees. True draftees were given the “US” designation.

Within months of my induction, the draft ended. And with its termination came a troop-strength draw-down, which spared me a long-term assignment in Southeast Asia. I won’t lie about it: I was grateful for that fortuitous turn of events. My tour of service was not without difficulty. But I was spared a prolonged rotation “In Country.” That was fine with me. I had no desire to play Rambo.

But neither did I think it right to allow someone else to serve in my place. I didn’t know whether America’s involvement in Vietnam made sense. Though I admit that, at the time, I did wish that we had “taken off the gloves,” that we had given our soldiers more of a fighting chance at success.

Nevertheless, I was then — and I remain today — more sure than not that helping the South Vietnamese was a worthy endeavor (look at what happened to them when we left). But I do believe that fighting that “conflict” under a set of Cold War “rules of engagement” that required us to do so with one hand tied behind our back was imprudent, at best.

None of that is really the point, though.

The fact is that military engagements rarely involve the clarity of, say, a World War II. In that case, the attack on Pearl Harbor firmed and focused Americans’ resolve. There wasn’t much gray area back then. Though injuries and deaths were just as painful to loved ones then as they are now, the issue of purpose didn’t come so heavily into play.

An exception is the case of those who oppose war of any kind. For them, purpose is always an issue — they contend that there never is a “just” reason for engaging in warfare. Though I do not agree with their views (I do not believe, for example, that we can simply call upon “the better angels of [peoples'] natures” — and thereby persuade all who seek to do harm to divest themselves of their unkind intents), I do respect their convictions. I believe them to be well-meaning, if naive, souls.

But I cannot abide those who arrive at their positions via political affiliation. My disdain for them began during my own tour of military service, and it continues to this day. There were those, for example, who yelled expletives at me as I walked through airports during the ’70s. There were those who spat at me.

Airlines then offering the discounted flying rates of either “military stand-by” or “military reserve” required that soldiers and sailors travel in uniform (and that they present valid service IDs) at the time of ticket purchase and plane boarding. Seeing us so attired, some anti-war types in airport concourses felt compelled to vocalize their opposition to all things military.

On the other hand, there certainly were those who felt differently, who acted differently. Walking through some of those same airports, I returned the salutes of many men of WWII and Korean War vintage who appreciated my service. And there were those motorists who, seeing me walking along a street or road in uniform stopped and offered me rides, regardless of where I was going or how far my destination would take them away from their own.

That’s the way it was back then. My uniform moved some drivers to shout curses at me from their windows; it drew gratitude and a helping hand from others.

Since then, left-wingers have pretty much learned their lesson. Recognizing that Jane Fonda will never be forgiven by many for her contentious words and actions during the Vietnam era, they now proclaim “support for the troops.” They are careful to assure the masses that it is precisely, in fact, their deep respect for the men and women of our Armed Forces that compels them to speak against military conflict.

People who have lost family members feel particularly privileged when it come to the fallen. Mothers who’ve lost sons and wives who’ve lost husbands, most especially, seem to believe that they have extra license to speak for the dead.

I strongly disagree.

No one, but no one (most particularly those who have not served) has earned the right to speak for a soldier. I feel for anyone who has lost someone precious. I am respectful of their grief. Having lost many souls who were dear to me, I not only sympathize; I empathize. Deeply.

But there are things that soldiers experience, things that they feel as a result of their service, that they cannot adequately express — even to their loved ones. Soldiers are changed in ways that cannot be fully appreciated by anyone who has not served. For some it happens from the get-go, from the moment they take the oath at induction. For others it takes longer: weeks or months.

Eventually it happens to most everyone who dons the uniform. Standing at attention among your brothers and sisters as our nation’s flag is raised or lowered; the sound of a lone bugle breaching the stillness; your attention turned to the “empty spaces” in formation; your mind focused on your profound purpose… It’s just something that you have to personally experience to really understand.

I certainly agree that everyone has the right to voice his or her opinion. The headstones that grace Arlington — as well as those that stand vigil in cemeteries and battlefields the world over — are testament to American soldiers’ commitment to preserving your right to do so.

So please, do speak. Speak for yourself. But only yourself.

cross-posted at: mike-murray.com

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