October 14, 2001 was a pivotal day in my life, even though I had no idea of the real significance at that time. On that crisp fall day, I stood before a National Guard recruiter and expressed my desire to sign up for the Guard. The recruiter looked to be about my age, although he was in much better physical shape and had a look of tired resignation in his eyes. I had expected him to be much more energetic and zealous about having this new recruit in his presence – I remembered the tenacity with which similar recruiters had approached me and several friends after graduating high school – often calling us several times with promises of adventure, scholarships, and more for signing up to serve. But this man was different. At the time I thought it was because he considered me too old to be really useful, but looking back I think he saw the bigger picture of the awful storm which lay ahead much more clearly than I did.
I was 31 that fall, which was close to the cut off age for enlisting. The Guardsman explained this to me, and he took a good deal of time emphasizing the commitment and sacrifice that would be involved if I signed up. He ended our meeting by giving me his card and strongly urging me to go home and discuss the decision in more detail with my wife before moving forward. And so I did.
My wife had not said much when I first told her that I was interested in enlisting. She was pregnant at the time with our first child, and both of us were deeply saddened and concerned with the recent September 11th attacks. We wanted to help out – to do something that would make a difference. She seemed a bit surprised and disconcerted when I announced that I had in fact stopped by the recruitment office and spoken to the Guardsman about moving forward as a volunteer. I explained in my naïve, superficial way that it would only involve being away for a weekend each month and, in my estimation, they would most likely call upon me to help out in some small way around the U.S.A. while our country decided what to do in retaliation for September 11th. I assured her that I thought the chances I would ever “go to war” were slim. I had known several National Guardsmen over my lifetime, and to my recollection none had ever been deployed for combat – at least none that I chose to remember.
My wife was quiet for the most part during that conversation. When I was done speaking I said “But I will only do this if it is OUR decision. What do you want me to do?”
I didn’t go back to see the recruiter. He never called or followed up with me either. Looking back on my conversation with him, I realized that his whole demeanor had changed when I mentioned my wife was pregnant. I am also convinced that he knew far more than I did about how things would unfold in the coming years for enlisted soldiers. My wife had said she did not want me to sign up. She explained that she needed me at home, and so would our child, and that I was already her hero and had nothing to prove by going off somewhere and possibly getting hurt or killed. She said I could make a difference in other ways and that in fact I already was making a difference through my work as an addictions counselor and by being a good husband and a good man.
If my wife had said it was O.K., I would have marched my way into the Guard and changed everything that is my life today. It is hard to comprehend what may have changed. Unimaginable differences. Things forever altered. But I did not go. I stayed home instead. And I asked my wife to promise never to bring up the discussion again. I asked this because I felt a strong sense of guilt and shame knowing that other people would go – many, many others would choose to go. Some would have no choice. And many would not return. Others would return but never be the same. And for the people who made that decision – that tremendous sacrifice – their lives and the lives of those around them would be forever scarred and altered in innumerable ways.
So the years rolled on after that day in October, and it became clearer and clearer to us all that the enlisted soldiers and their families would be sacrificing much more than I could have ever imagined for the war and for our safety here at home. During all this time my wife kept her promise to stay silent, as did I, about the day we made the decision to stay out of harm’s way. But my guilty conscience has continued through the silence and I feel the twinges of profound sorrow every time I see, or hear, or am reminded about the tremendous cost that others have paid to the war over the last decade.
So now I am talking about it. My decision to break the silence came after I saw an article talking about the extremely high rate of suicide among soldiers returning from combat. Lives forever changed, pain that is too deep to describe, selfless sacrifice with an overwhelming emotional toll. The men and women who are serving or have served in the military – in OUR military – are heroes, plain and simple. They deserve much more than they are getting from us. And the fact that returning veterans are taking their own lives at such high rates after they have served so bravely is deeply disturbing, inexcusable, and a cry out that things must change in our response to these wounded warriors that have given so much for us all.
It seems like we are going faster and faster in this country with the advent of new technology and with the overall pace of information and communication. Some people have called the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan the “wars that weren’t” because so many people safe here at home have simply refused to really think about the sacrifices being made by the people truly fighting and sacrificing for the wars. Other people would rather talk about the political aspects of the wars – the moral and ethical decisions that went on well behind the battle lines and the paper trails that lead our soldiers into life threatening situations for over 10 years. These things may make for somewhat interesting after dinner conversation at the golf club dining room, but they do little to nothing in terms of helping the men and women that went anyway – despite the “shoulds” or “should nots” of the political powers that sent them away from all they loved to put their lives on the line.
I am breaking my silence and owning my guilt about the price others paid for me and my family and all of us here because it is something I am able to do. I am also able to honor soldiers that I come into contact with more often. I can simply say “thank you” to them. I can remind my children of what each of the soldiers has done for us. I can become more involved in supporting and recognizing veterans. I can go to the parades and cheer. I can show respect, and gratitude, and an acknowledgement for the price that was paid for me and my family and for us all. Hopefully you will think about doing some similar things for our brave soldiers as well…
Veterans are true heros. When a perspn marries, their first amd primary obligation is to their spouse and children. You cannot serve two masters. Wars are made by people in positions of power. I remember when you were a very little boy and the Vietnam War was on. I thought at the time if you were of an age to serve I would hope you went to Canada. I have not changed my mind. A career soldier chooses that life. A family man chooses that life. They both hold challenges and victories. You were needed in other venues. Do not underestimate the value of your life in serving others. The medals here may be a handmade card of a child, or the look of relief of your wife when you come through the door at night. All of us serve in our own way. Wheather or not it is clear to you life is unfolding as it should be.