|
War and Homecoming: What Can We Learn? Since the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in 2002, 1.5 million U.S. military personnel have served in the combat theaters of Iraq and Afghanistan. As of this writing, new troops are being deployed and experienced soldiers are returning for second, third, and, in some cases, fourth tours of duty; others are being discharged and returning to their home communities. As a college teacher, I have begun to meet some of the returning veterans of Operation Iraqi Freedom. A few have talked with me about their transition home and some of what they struggle with in it. I am honored when they do that because I know that they do not much trust anyone who has not been in combat. It is they who have put a human face on this war for me. It is they who, without meaning to, hold me accountable for my part, as a citizen, in the war and its human cost. It has long been known by soldiers, if not much acknowledged by the rest of us, that re-entry to civilian life after serving in wartime is a complex and demanding process. The term “re-adjustment’ is often used, as in the massive National Vietnam Veterans Readjustment Survey (NVVRS) conducted by Congressional mandate in the 1980s. However, the data--and numerous personal accounts--suggest that this transition is more akin to rebuilding a life, than “re-eadjusting” to a status quo. At the end of WWII, 66% of the patient beds in the VA hospital system were for emotional and mental problems. In the NVVRS, even combat veterans who did not have an identified psychiatric disorder, had higher rates of substance abuse, marital problems, divorces, job instability, accidents and physical illness than soldiers from the same cohort who did not serve in combat. Today, among the homeless adult male population, one in three is a veteran, and Iraq veterans are beginning to join their ranks. Perhaps these data reflect a little of what James Hillman meant when he wrote that, “The return from the killing fields is more than a debriefing . . . it is a slow ascent from hell.” For a society that sends people into combat with some frequency, we have displayed remarkably little interest in knowing what the impact of that is on those we send, or on their families, friends, and communities. We like parades. We like yellow ribbons. However, there is a conspiracy of silence about what it is like to drive past corpses along the roadside every day or what it is to return home disfigured, maimed, or haunted by terrible memories. I, for one, have been surprised to learn that for many veterans coming home involves a sense of isolation and estrangement that they never expected. It makes sense when you think about it. The trouble is that most of us don’t. One of the most frequent comments I’ve heard in talking with veterans, not only of the present wars but of WWII and Vietnam, is “Civilians can’t understand and they don’t want to understand.” In part, they are right. I can never understand their experience in the way that someone who has been in combat can, no matter how much I read, listen, or learn. Still, I have to believe that I--we--can understand something of what they can tell us of how it is for them. Indeed, I believe it is essential that we try, not only for their sakes, but for our own. Chris Hedges, in his powerful book, War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, wrote, “War leaves behind not memory, but amnesia.” It is that amnesia that lets us off the hook for what we send others to do and makes future wars more likely. We may support the present war or oppose it, but we are a part of it, either way, and we need to be honest about what it is. We may or may not like what our veterans have to tell us, but it is far too costly not to hear it. “The Ground Truth” is one of several recent documentaries about Iraq war veterans. Though it has not garnered the awards that some others have received, it is, to me, the most powerful of the lot. The title is a play on the term “the ground troops,” and this film was one of the first to give this new generation of war veterans a chance to tell their stories. In so doing, they show us the experience of this war in deeper, more complex, and more human ways than our society has tended to want to see. It is rated “R” for “disturbing violent content and language,” which is the least it should be for a film about war. The killing in it is real killing and the dead bodies are real people. It is not a film for children or for the faint of heart. It is a film for those who are willing to confront the reality of what we, as a nation, ask of people we send to fight and what they need from us when they return. This is why I offered to show the film and share some information about veterans for the Catholic Peace Fellowship at St. Malachy’s Church on Saturday, April 21. As one Vietnam veteran pointed out to me, “There is no one story [of war], but thousands of stories.” The stories in this film, while representative, are not exhaustive. Each war veteran will have his or her own story and we can make no assumptions about what that will be. In addition, the war experience is intensely personal and not something that most people discuss readily. However, acknowledging what we do not know and that we are willing to learn is a beginning. Films and books in which the stories of veterans are told can also help. In time, we may find ways to bridge the divide between those who have served in war and those who have not. I hope so. The veterans I have met are fine people and I do not want them to be cut off from the rest of us, for their sakes or for ours. I also believe that without their stories, we cannot know our own story and that is a dangerous predicament for us, as individuals, as a community, and as a nation. For in the long run, to quote again from Hedges, “Reconciliation, self-awareness, and finally the humility that makes peace possible come only when culture no longer serves a cause or a myth but that most precious and elusive of all human narratives--truth.” In 1918, during what would turn out to be the last months of WWI (though he didn’t know that at the time), John Masefield gave a lecture called “War and the Future.” In it he said:
Perhaps not enough people saw the wounded. Perhaps we can try again. Ann Marie Donohue |