Posted on 11/11/2017 12:41:04 AM PST by pboyington
On Veterans Day, it is important for those who have never served to take a moment to understand the solitary world of a vet.
Millions of vets are and have been successful in all endeavors. They are doctors, lawyers, business people and a thousand other professions. Not all have PTSD; not all are the troubled, brooding, street corner homeless guy, although they exist and need help desperately.
No matter how successful a vet might be materially, more often than not, vets are often alone, mentally and spiritually each day and for the rest of their lives.
Vets’ stories are all different, but some elements of the common experience exist.
Many vets experienced and saw and heard and did things unimaginable to the average person. They also lived a daily camaraderie that cannot be repeated in the civilian world. In fact, many vets spend the rest of their lives seeking the same esprit de corps that simply is absent from their civilian lives and jobs. They long to spend just 15 minutes back with the best friends they ever had, friends that are scattered to every corner of the earth, and some to the afterlife itself.
Vets are haunted by visions of horror and death, by guilt of somehow surviving and living the good life, when some they knew are gone. They strangely wish sometimes that they were back in those dreadful circumstances, not to experience the dirt and horror and terror and noise and violence again, but to be with the only people a vet really knows, other vets.
Civilians must understand that for a vet nothing is ever the same again. Their senses can be suddenly illuminated by the slightest sound or smell or sight: sights of death all around, a living version of Dante’s Inferno; sounds so loud that they can only be described as Saving Private Ryan in surround sound on steroids; smells vast and horrific; rotting death, burning fuel and equipment, rubber, animals and…people. The smoldering ruins of life all around them.
All vets have these thoughts nearly every day. Some may experience them for fractions of second, or for minutes at a time. They replay over and over again like an endless 24 hour war movie.
Part of the solitary world of the vet is being able to enjoy complete bliss doing absolutely nothing. This is a trait grating to civilians who must constantly search for endless stimuli. Unbeknownst to them, the greatest thrill of all is just being alive. A lot of vets have an Obi-wan Kenobi calmness. After what they went through, how bad can anything really be?
As King said to Chris in Platoon, “Make it outta here, it’s all gravy, every day of the rest of your life – gravy…”
So many, if not all vets walk around each day lost in their own special story. They were once great actors on a giant stage with speaking parts and props. Maybe they were heroes and now they aren’t anymore. Maybe they helped save the world and now they can’t. Maybe they gave orders and now they take them. Maybe they thought that they could accomplish anything and now they know they can’t. Perhaps their lives now are smaller and slower and sometimes in the vet’s mind, just incidental, even though they’re not.
Most civilians are oblivious to the solitary life of the vet. But, it’s there. It’s the same eternal and universal philosophy, whether you fought in World War II, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War, Iraq or Afghanistan. The experiences may have been different, but the emotions are the same.
A problem with the solitary world of the vet is that the vet has a hard time explaining what he or she did to those who didn’t serve. Some vets want to talk, but they have no outlet. Maybe their only outlet is watching a war movie or reading a book about the conflict they were in.
How often do people say, “Grandpa never talks about Korea.” That’s because Grandpa knows no one can understand except other vets. That’s because Grandpa knows most people don’t care.
Part of this taciturn mentality is that vets speak another language, a strange and archaic language of their past. How do you talk to civilians about “fire for effect” or “grid 7310” or “shake and bake” or “frag orders” or “10 days and a wake up” or a thousand and one other terms that are mystifying to the real world?
You can’t.
All of this adds to the solitary world of the vet. Some are better at handling life afterwards than others. Some don’t seem affected at all, but they are. They just hide it. Some never return to normal. But, what is normal to a vet anymore?
So, this Veterans’ Day, if you see a vet sitting by themselves at a restaurant or on a train or shopping at the grocery store alone, take a moment to speak with them. Take them out of their solitary world for a moment. You’ll be happy you did.
This is well written piece and I am happy the author was able to articulate these thoughts and feelings.
// Maybe they were heroes and now they aren’t anymore. //
THANK YOU, VETS - FROM THE BOTTOM OF OUR FREE HEARTS.
He ran the same post last year ... needs to be run every year.
Roger that.
Without controversy, the greatest respect one can demonstrate to another human is to simply and raptly listen to the tale he/she has to offer, and to digest it with silent rumination, without rejection.
Regarding that golden moment from a veteran of the killing fields, he will give it to you only if he completely trusts your sense of treating his confidence as a privileged, holy communication not to be lightly esteemed. This is one of the richest life events you can experience as a trusted friend outside the fraternity of those who have served as a combatant.
May your reputation be worthy to receive and keep alive this nugget of lonely pain shared.
(From personal experience.)
In honor of Grover Don Penn, Marine: First (Edson's) Marine Raider Battalion, engaged in the most forward front of the battle for Bloody Ridge, Guadalcanal, September 12-14, 1942.
In honor of George Raymond Parker, Jr., Marine: Heavy Weapons Platoon of 6 Marine Division, who fought through the battle for Sugar Loaf Hill, Okinawa, May 12-18, 1945. Purple Heart, Silver Star.
In honor of Albert Burke, Combat Infantryman: 104 Battalion of 26 "Yankee" Infantry Division, fought in Moncout Woods, October 1944, thence to Metz, 3-day march of Patton's 3rd Army to Luxembourg in the Battle of the Bulge, crossed the Rhine and southward into Germany until the war's end. Heavy .30-cal Machine Gunner. Would not accept promotion beyond PFC. Expert in quad-.50 cal operation.
In honor of Gino Centofanti, Signal expert with Patton's 3rd Army. Remained after the war in the Occupation Forces, ASA.
R. I. P., friends.
I met with an old vet and his wife in their little room at the nursing home. He had the globe and anchor tattoo and I said “Oh - you were Navy? World War II I imagine.”
He mumbled - “Yeah - I drove a Higgins boat.”
“Oh - the landing craft.”
He looked up at me “Hmm - not many people know what that is, I’m surprised.”
“I like to read”
His wife piped in “Harry was at D-Day”.
He shot her a bit of a glance. I just got up and shook his hand again and thanked him for his service. Sat back down - “So are those your kids in the photos?”
And yes - he ended up with his own business, sort of an inventor, raising a bunch of kids, etc.
Moncout Moncourt Woods
AMEN!
The main theme in this piece is the aloneness of the vet and if he is to experience anything outside of that aloneness, others would need to be aware at all times (as the vet is) that SOME things are 24/7.
I have stenosis of the spine and I can tell you, IT has taken control of my every waking moment.
I still function and sometimes I'm relatively pain free.
There ARE times when I am in great pain and I need to sit down after only a few minutes walking.
THAT'S how I liken this author's understand and writing about veterans.
There IS an ever present sense of, "only me and my buddies ... and they're gone" ... which can be a controlling element in the everyday life of a veteran.
I ESPECIALLY liked the comment about blissful do nothing.
I KNOW that one and my workaholic, OCD wife just is not able to be part of that world.
Which reminds me: I need to call a bunch of folks today - at least those who I didn't call yesterday (the Marine Corps Birthday).
I left Vietnam in 1971, discharged in 1972. About a month after I returned my family threw a party for me. While sitting outside my uncle started telling me about Tarawa. He was in the Navy and was transporting the Marines to the beach. His boat got shot up and was disabled and ended up going to shore with the Marines, he had no gear and no weapon. Since the tides were misjudged they couldn’t land as close as expected and they had to wade through water for some distance, they were sitting ducks for the Japanese machine guns dug in on the Island. He started grabbing gear, a rifle and ammunition from the dead Marines he had to wade through (1500 Marines were killed or wounded on that first day). He fought side by side with the Marines for several days.
I share this story with you because he only shared it with me and my father (US ARMY). When he passed away I was talking to his son who did not serve in the military. When I mentioned his fathers time in the Navy and the battle at Tarawa and he looked at me in disbelief. He never shared this story with his own son.
PTSD wasn’t defined until 1980.
Whew, glad I got out before that.
Jeeze, I miss the comradere and esprit decor
In rare moment, my command master chief, a man who ran more submarine spec ops than anyone in US history said “where you ever scared?
I said “hell yeah”
He said “me too”
LOL
“...my workaholic, OCD wife just is not able to be part of that world.”
But aren’t you glad to be married to one? I know I am. And blissful do nothing is part of this vet’s every day.
;^)
All vets have these thoughts nearly every day. Some may experience them for fractions of second, or for minutes at a time. They replay over and over again like an endless 24 hour war movie.
Utter B.S.
I am a vet. I was a rear echelon support officer.
I never saw combat.
Most vets never see combat.
Most vets that saw combat do not see the horrific scenes/sounds/smells described above.
Not all that do suffer PTSD.
The description of the above is for those at the tip of the spear, or the unlucky.
To say that all vets experience this on a daily basis is completely irresponsible and misleading.
Most vets have two horror stories. One of their war job and the friends they miss living and dead. The other was the battle at home of being called baby killer by people that prefer to kill unborn babies. The VA is set up to do little to help and those that suffer the most like form PTSD sometimes have to go through all the stress they experience in war and lots of stress to even get help.
We will never be normal again.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.