2014
marks the hundredth anniversary of the beginning of the First World
War which began on July 28, 1914. In my desire to make a post on my
blog to acknowledge Veterans day I found myself at a loss as the
where to focus or even start. My difficulty arise from a few areas. I
am not a veteran, I have been an active peace worker for most my life
and I have mixed unresolved feeling about veterans in general.
As
I seek my flow, a poem I ran into while collecting content for this
post touched me very must so I think I will start with this poem
written by Penny Rock, a nurse in the Vietnam, who wrote poems
to help process the horrors of war. When she came home she found, much
like Jerry Lembcke points out, that the myth of vets being spit on
when returning to from Vietnam give way to the larger truth that
conversely no one wanted to talk about the war. So she chose not to talk about it for 25 years. But after she was
diagnosed with cancer she came out of her shell and wrote two
acclaimed poetry books about war. Here is her poem “Before The War”
for your consideration.
From
Homer's Iliad about the Trojan War to today Iraq and Afghanistan,
like Penny Rock, poetry has help veterans deal with what they have seen and done in war. And
in this era where more soldiers survive in our wars as medical
science improves, folks like David Finkel remind us
that, as with all war, the war continues for our veterans long after
they leave the battlefield. This pain is illustrated so well by the story of Jacob George, a beloved vet who became a peace worker after war who sadly committed suicide. While exploring this narrative I also ponder if
Chris Hedges is right when he says war is a force that gives us meaning?
"War will exist until that distant day when the conscientious objector enjoys the same reputation and prestige that the warrior does today." - John F. Kennedy
I
knew at an early age I had no desire to kill for my country. In “68”
Nixon, to his credit, began his campaign and finally fulfilled his desire to end the draft.
I turned 18 in the fall of 1972 and the selective service had
assigned my age group draft numbers. But this was the year they quit
sending out draft notices as the war in Vietnam was coming to its
end. So by this time I knew the probability of me being drafted was
small and my plan to go to jail rather then to war was thankfully
derailed. Today we have an all volunteer military but the mechanisms
of the draft are still with us. Here I could dive into the appalling
practices of the military recruiters, the provisions of the No Child Left Behind Act for all student information be turned over to the
military or even the disrespectful ways were treat our returning
soldiers. But that would make this little blog venture into a never
ending vortex difficult to emerge from.
The
cannon fodder of war has always been the young and this current
“endless war on terror” is no exception. This new cannon fodder
has been called the Millennial military. Some stats. >> Recent
data shows that in the millennial military 43% of the active duty
force age is 25 or younger and roughly 66% of it 30 or under. 4,491
U.S. service members were killed in Iraq between 2003 and 2014.
Nearly 1,300 were 22 or younger. In our current war on ISIS the first
official casualty was Lance Corporal Sean P. Neal, who died on October 23, 2014. He was only 19 years old. The
above millennial statistics where taken from this interesting article by Rory Fanning who walked across the United States for the Pat
Tillman Foundation in 2008-2009, following two deployments to
Afghanistan with the 2nd Army Ranger Battalion. Fanning became a
conscientious objector after his second tour. My heart goes out with
compassion to all our veterans of war. And to all the casualties
also.
Besides
the soldiers there are many casualties of war, starting with the
first thing. The Truth. Women and children are the unseen casualties of war. And the environment has long been a
silent casualty of war.
In Conclusion.
I
knew this venture into war and veterans would be a difficult one, but
I felt the need to say something, anything about this significant
issue to our society and world. Recognizing the pain suffered in our
wars and treating the victims of war with understanding and
compassion are necessary steps to finding a world where there is war
no more.
Just
a few bullet items of note on this day. First, I was struck by
something I read on the Selective Service page on women and the draft “Although women would become part of the personnel inventory for
the services to draw from, their use would be based on the needs and
missions of the services.” The term “ personnel inventory”
caused me to feel like our soldiers are like just so many gears and
cogs sitting on the shelf. And indeed they are. And when the parts of
the machine are broken you pull a new part off the shelve and write
off the losses in the accounting book.
Second.
There was a gala for IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) that raised over $33million. I am simple dumbfounded by this. Another vortex I am not going to
approach today. And then there is the irony I found in this
situation.
The
Poppy is the symbol in Britain, and internationally, for their
Remembrance Day for veterans of war. Recently there was an event
called the Poppy Rocks Ball that was sponsored my Lockheed Martin. All I could do was sigh a deep sigh and shake my head. And finally
is this story about Harry Leslie Smith, a 91 year old British veteranof says he will no longer wear a poppy after this year.
I
will end as I started, with another poem for you. The poem that
sparked the poppy as a symbol. It is called “In Flanders Field”
written by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae on May 3, 1915. Be well.
Help the vets. Work for Peace.
In
Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between
the crosses, row on row,
That
mark our place; and in the sky
The
larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce
heard amid the guns below.
We
are the Dead. Short days ago
We
lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved
and were loved, and now we lie
In
Flanders fields.
Take
up our quarrel with the foe:
To
you from failing hands we throw
The
torch; be yours to hold it high.
If
ye break faith with us who die
We
shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In
Flanders fields.
We
are the dead; short days ago
We
lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved
and were loved, and now we lie
In
Flanders fields.
Take
up our quarrel with the foe!
To
you from failing hands we throw
The
torch; be yours to hold it high!
If
ye break faith with us who die
We
shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In
Flanders fields.
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