Friday, September 3, 2010 - 8:23 AM
Retired Army Special Forces Sgt. Maj. Alan Farrell is one of the more interesting people in this country nowadays, a decorated veteran of the Vietnam War who teaches French at VMI, reviews films and writes poetry. Just your typical sergeant major/brigadier general with a Ph.D. in French and a fistful of other degrees.
This is a speech that he gave to vets at the Harvard Business School last Veterans' Day. I know it is long but a lot of you can't go outside anyway because of the hurricane:
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"Ladies and Gentlemens:
Kurt Vonnegut -- Corporal Vonnegut -- famously told an assembly like this one that his wife had begged him to "bring light into their tunnels" that night. "Can't do that," said Vonnegut, since, according to him, the audience would at once sense his duplicity, his mendacity, his insincerity... and have yet another reason for despair. I'll not likely have much light to bring into any tunnels this night, either.
The remarks I'm about to make to you I've made before... in essence at least. I dare to make them again because other veterans seem to approve. I speak mostly to veterans. I don't have much to say to them, the others, civilians, real people. These remarks, I offer you for the reaction I got from one of them, though, a prison shrink. I speak in prisons a lot. Because some of our buddies wind up in there. Because their service was a Golden Moment in a life gone sour. Because... because no one else will.
In the event, I've just got done saying what I'm about to say to you, when the prison psychologist sidles up to me to announce quietly: "You've got it." The "it," of course, is Post Stress Traumatic Traumatic Post Stress Disorder Stress... Post. Can never seem to get the malady nor the abbreviation straight. He's worried about me... that I'm wandering around loose... that I'm talking to his cons. So worried, but so sincere, that I let him make me an appointment at the V.A. for "diagnosis." Sincerity is a rare pearl.
So I sulk in the stuffy anteroom of the V.A. shrink's office for the requisite two hours (maybe you have), finally get admitted. He's a nice guy. Asks me about my war, scans my 201 File, and, after what I take to be clinical scrutiny, announces without preamble: "You've got it." He can snag me, he says, 30 percent disability. Reimbursement, he says, from Uncle Sam, now till the end of my days. Oh, and by the way, he says, there's a cure. I'm not so sure that I want a cure for 30 percent every month. This inspires him to explain. He takes out a piece of paper and a Magic Marker™. Now: Anybody who takes out a frickin' Magic Marker™ to explain something to you thinks you're a bonehead and by that very gesture says so to God and everybody.
Anyhow. He draws two big circles on a sheet of paper, then twelve small circles. Apples and grapes, you might say. In fact, he does say. The "grapes," he asserts, stand for the range of emotional response open to a healthy civilian, a normal person: titillation, for instance, then amusement, then pleasure, then joy, then delight and so on across the spectrum through mild distress on through angst -- whatever that is -- to black depression. The apples? That's what you got, traumatized veteran: Ecstasy and Despair. But we can fix that for you. We can make you normal.
So here's my question: Why on earth would anybody want to be normal?
And here's what triggered that curious episode:
The words of the prophet Jeremiah:
My bowels. My bowels. I am pained at my very heart; my heart maketh a noise in me... [T]hou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war. Destruction upon destruction is cried; for the whole land is spoilt and my curtains... How long shall I see the standard and hear the sound of the trumpet?
I dunno about Jeremiah's bowels... or his curtains, but I've seen the standard and heard the sound of the trumpet. Again. Civilians mooing about that "Thin Red Line of 'eroes" between them and the Darkness. Again. ‘Course it's not red any more. Used to be olive drab. Then treetop camouflage. Then woodland. Then chocolate chip. Now pixelated, random computer-generated. Multi-cam next, is it? Progress. The kids are in the soup. Again. Me? I can't see the front sights of me piece any more. And if I can still lug my rucksack five miles, I need these days to be defibrillated when I get there. Nope. I got something like six Honorable Discharges from Pharaoh's Army. Your Mom's gonna be wearing Kevlar before I do. Nope. This one's on the kids, I'm afraid, the next generation.
I can't help them. Not those who make the sacrifice in the desert nor those in the cesspool cities of a land that if two troopers from the One Oh One or two Lance Corporals could find on a map a few years ago, I'll be surprised. Nobody can help... except by trying to build a society Back Here that deserves such a sacrifice.
We gonna win the war? I dunno. They tell me I lost mine. I know I didn't start it. Soldiers don't start wars. Civilians do. And civilians say when they're over. I'm just satisfied right now that these kids, for better or worse, did their duty as God gave them the light to see it. But I want them back. And I worry not about the fight, but about the after: after the war, after the victory, after... God forbid... the defeat, if it come to that. It's after that things get tricky. After that a soldier needs the real grit and wit. And after that a soldier needs to believe. Anybody can believe before. During? A soldier has company in the fight, in Kandahar or Kabul, Basra or Baghdad. It's enough to believe in the others during. But after... and I can tell you this having come home from a war: After ...a soldier is alone. A batch of them, maybe... but still alone.
Years ago, maybe... when I was still in the Army, my A Team got the mission to support an Air Force escape and evasion exercise. Throw a bunch of downed pilots into the wilderness, let local guerrillas (us) feed them into a clandestine escape net and spirit them out by train just like in The Great Escape to... Baltimore, of all places. So we set up an elaborate underground network: farmhouses, caves, barns, pickup trucks, loads of hay where a guy can hide, fifty-five gallon drums to smuggle the evadees through checkpoints in. We've even cozened the Norfolk and Western Railroad out of a boxcar. Sooooo... come midnight, with our escapees safely stowed in that car, we wait for a special train to make a detour, back onto the siding, hook it up, and freight the pilots off to Maree-land. Pretty realistic, seems to us.
Now, for safety's sake the Railroad requires a Line Administrator on site to supervise any special stop. Sure enough, just before midnight two suit-and-ties show up toting a red lantern. Civilians. We sniff at them disdainfully. One of them wigwags to the train. With a clank she couples the boxcar and chugs out into the night. The other guy -- frumpy Babbit from the front office -- shuffles off down the track and out onto a trestle bridge over the gorge. He stands there with his hands behind his back, peering up at the cloud-strewn summertime sky, a thousand bucks worth of Burberry overcoat riffling in the night breeze. I edge over respectfully behind him. Wait. He notices me after a while, looks back. "You know," he says, "Was on a night like this 40 years ago that I jumped into Normandy."
Who'da thought?
Who'da thought? Then I thought... back to right after my return from Vietnam. I'm working nights at a convenience store just down the road from this very spot. Lousy job. Whores, bums, burnouts, lowlifes. That's your clientele after midnight in a convenience store. One particular guy I remember drifts in every morning about 0400. Night work. Janitor, maybe. Not much to distinguish him from the rest of the early morning crowd of shadows shuffling around the place. Fingers and teeth yellowed from cigarette smoke. A weathered, leathered face that just dissolves into the colorless crowd of nobodies.
Never says a word. Buys his margarine and macaroni and Miller's. Plunks down his cash. Hooks a grubby hand around his bag and threads his way out of the place and down the street. Lost in another world. Like the rest of the derelicts. One night, he's fumbling for his keys, drops them on the floor, sets his wallet on the counter -- brown leather, I still remember -- and the wallet flops open. Pinned to the inside of it, worn shiny and smooth, with its gold star gleaming out of the center: combat jump badge from that great World War II... Normandy maybe, just like the suit-and-tie.
Who'da thought?
Two guys scarred Out There. Not sure just where or how even. You can lose your life without dying. But the guy who made it to the top and the guy shambling along the bottom are what James Joyce calls in another context "secret messengers." Citizens among the rest, who look like the rest, talk like the rest, act like the rest... but who know prodigious secrets, wherever they wash up and whatever use they make of them. Who know somber despair but inexplicable laughter, the ache of duty but distrust of inaction. Who know risk and exaltation... and that awful drop though empty air we call failure... and solitude! They know solitude.
Because solitude is what waits for the one who shall have borne the battle. Out There in it together... back here alone. Alone to make way in a scrappy, greedy, civilian world "filching lucre and gulping warm beer," as Conrad had it. Alone to learn the skills a self-absorbed, hustling, modern society values. Alone to unlearn the deadly skills of the former -- and bloody -- business. Alone to find a companion -- maybe -- and alone -- maybe -- even with that companion over a lifetime... for who can make someone else who hasn't seen it understand horror, blackness, filth? Incommunicado. Voiceless. Alone. My Railroad president wandered off by himself to face his memories; my Store 24 regular was clearly a man alone with his.
For my two guys, it was the after the battle that they endured, and far longer than the moment of terror in the battle. Did my Railroad exec learn in the dark of war to elbow other men aside, to view all other men as the enemy, to "fight" his way up the corporate ladder just as he fought his way out of the bocages of Normandy? Did he find he could never get close to a wife or children again and turn his energy, perhaps his anger toward some other and solitary goal? Did the Store/24 guy never get out of his parachute harness and shiver in an endless night patrolled by demons he couldn't get shut of? Did he haul out that tattered wallet and shove his jump badge under the nose of those he'd done wrong to, disappointed, embarrassed? Did he find fewer and fewer citizens Back Here who even knew what it was? Did he keep it because he knew what it was? From what I've seen -- from a distance, of course -- of success, I'd say it's not necessarily sweeter than failure -- which I have seen close up.
Well, that's what I said that woke up the prison shrink.
And I say again to you that silence is the reward we reserve for you and your buddies, for my Cadets. Silence is the sound of Honor, which speaks no word and lays no tread. And Nothing is the glory of the one who's done Right. And Alone is the society of those who do it the Hard Way, alone even when they have comrades like themselves in the fight. I've gotta hope as a teacher that my Cadets, as a citizen that you and your buddies will have the inner resources, the stuff of inner life, the values in short, to abide the brute loneliness of after, to find the courage to continue the march, to do Right, to live with what they've done, you've done in our name, to endure that dark hour of frustration, humiliation, failure maybe... or victory, for one or the other is surely waiting Back Here. Unless you opt for those grapes...
My two guys started at the same place and wound up at the far ends of the spectrum. As we measure their distance from that starting point, they seem to return to it: the one guy in the darkness drawn back to a Golden Moment in his life from a lofty vantage point; t'other guy lugging through God knows what gauntlet of shame and frustration that symbol of his Golden Moment. Today we celebrate your Golden Moment. While a whole generation went ganging after its own indulgence, vanity, appetite, you clung to a foolish commitment, to foolish old traditions; as soldiers, sailors, pilots, Marines you honored pointless ritual, suffered the endless, sluggish monotony of duty, raised that flag not just once, or again, or -- as has become fashionable now -- in time of peril, but every single morning. You stuck it out. You may have had -- as we like to say -- the camaraderie of brothers or sisters to buck each other up or the dubious support (as we like to say... and say more than do, by the way) of the folks back home, us... but in the end you persevered alone. Just as alone you made that long walk from Out There with a duffle bag fulla pixelated, random computer-generated dirty laundry -- along with your bruised dreams, your ecstasy and your despair -- Back Here at tour's end.
And you will be alone, for all the good intentions and solicitude of them, the other, the civilians. Alone. But...together. Your generation, whom us dumbo civilians couldn't keep out of war, will bear the burden of soldier's return... alone. And a fresh duty: to complete the lives of your buddies who didn't make it back, to confect for them a living monument to their memory. Your comfort, such as it is, will come from the knowledge that others of that tiny fraction of the population that fought for us are alone but grappling with the same dilemmas -- often small and immediate, often undignified or humiliating, now and then immense and overwhelming -- by your persistence courting the risk, by your obstinacy clinging to that Hard Way. Some of you will be stronger than others, but even the strong ones will have their darker moments. Where we can join each other if not relieve each other, we secret messengers, is right here in places like this and on occasions like this -- one lousy day of the year, your day, my day, our day, -- in the company of each other and of the flag we served. Not much cheer in that kerugma. But there's the by-God glory.
"I know..." says the prophet Isaiah:
... I know that thou art obstinate, and thy neck is an iron sinew, and thy brow brass...I have shewed thee new things, even hidden things. Behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver; I have [refined] thee...in the furnace of affliction...
Well, all right, then. Why on earth would anybody want to be normal? Thanks for Listening and Lord love the lot of youse."
Sgt. Maj. Farrell’s talk is wonderfully written and poetically touches his audience’s hearts and sensibilities. This is an ideal piece to reflect upon as we enter into the long weekend. My question (and I understand it may be impossible to answer) is what is it that separates those combat veterans who return to live generally normal well-adjusted lives and not allowing their remembrances to master their souls and those veterans who suffer and find it difficult or impossible to find peace within themselves?
"Many brave heroes lived before Agamemnon; but they are overwhelmed in unending night, unwept, unknown, because they lacked a sacred bard. " -Horace, Odes 4.9.25
Sgt. Maj. Farrell's piece has knocked me out - what a voice.
My son intends to enlist when he finishes high school in two years. I never served, so there's a lot of advice I can't offer about the choice. For those who do know - is this something he ought to read?
....after he serves his first enlistment. I don't think he'll understand until then, which is largely the SGMs point.
First Deployment will be even more enlightning. If enlisted without deploying you can avoid feeling apart from everything else. Your life will continue on in a fairly normal fashion. It is only when you suspend your life and your place in time by deployong can you really understand whtat the SGM Ferrel is talking about.
Roy & A different perspective on the Iraq war
I have tears in my eyes. Especially when I look at my kids. God bless the "Roy's of the world". Mohammed needs to be honored. His family if they want should be allowed to come to the United States.
Treatment for the "Dishonorables"
One issue that arose in recent years is the denial of veteran's benefits to those who are dishonorably discharged. That seems fair, but there are thousands of combat vets who come home a bit screwed up and get kicked out of the military for bad things.
PBS Frontline recently had a great show on this. It showed one Iraqi combat vet who got kicked out of a private party while drunk, so he drove by later and shot a few rounds into the house. No one was injured, but a hard ass judge gave him 15 years in prison, and he was dishonorably discharged.
I recall exceptions are now made, but I think we need an official law so that all combat vets receive free VA mental health and health care, even if they were dishonorably discharged.
I believe the PBS show you're referring to is a Frontline piece entitled "The Wounded Platoon." It aired last May, and is available for instant viewing on Netflix. Very powerful. And the SGT you mention (SGT Barco) got 52 years from a hard-case judge (convicted of two counts of attempted murder, though as you say no one was technically hurt). A very sobering video....
Another issue this past decade is that judges no longer cut veterans any slack. At one time, most Judges served in WWII or Korea and understood that many vets face problems readjusting, so they were lenient when vets did crazy things.
This is no longer the case, as it is very, very rare for any judge to have served in the military. Judges in the USA are elected or appointed, and that requires lots of family money, so they are nearly all from wealthy families and never worked a job, much less served in our military. Vets are just another group of working class troublemakers to them.
Some states now have veterans courts, but this is controversial as unfair to all. I don't know the answer, but be aware that few judges in the USA care if someone served their nation in combat or otherwise.
The enduring solitude of combat vets
Well done: imaginary, literary, thought through--like Vonnegut himself.
The enduring solitude of combat vets
For all combat vets, within their "solitude", whatever place, whatever time--Barber's "Adagio for Strings."
I have done two runs in Iraq; the second as a Cavalry Squadron Commander in West Baghdad in 2006--an especially bloody and brutal year in the war.
So I guess these two runs, especially the second in 06, certify me as a combat vet and not some sort of fob soldier.
The Sergeant Major's speech as eloquent as it is does not work for today's combat soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan (in my view). His voice is a voice from a different era and a different perspective. The nature of war and of combat soldiering is not timeless, and each war and experience is unique.
Alas we still await the Sledge for Iraq and Afghanistan (no, Junger is not him nor is Mansoor or even Mullaney).
gian
ps; I liked Don's post as it did get at the question of strategy and the cost of war
"On Antiwar.com, I find a loutish American general, James Mattis, martial feminist, talking about the fun he has killing Afghans. Yes, fun, wheeee-oooo! and ooo-rah! too. He says, “You go into Afghanistan, you got guys who slap women around for five years because they didn’t wear a veil,” adding “guys like that ain’t got no manhood left anyways. So it’s a hell of a lot of fun to shoot them.” What must he do with prisoners?"
"A joyous killer, possibly orgasmic. Note mandatory flagly background, pickle suit, and stupid colorful gewgaws so he looks like a goddam stamp collection. Stern gaze is necessary to become a general. From defending the Constitution to the pleasure of watching Afghans die: The military has come a long way."
It’s just that General Mattis-Steinem makes killing sound like so much fun. And I guess it is, for some. You’ve seen the YouTube video of GIs machine-gunning people walking around a city street from a helicopter gunship. A hoot. But – can I offer a second opinion?
"I went off to Viet Nam because I was young and dumb and adventurous and they told me that I was fighting for Apple Pie, and Mom, and White Christian Motherhood (which I spent my high-school days dreading, but never mind). Actually I was just another sucker from the small-town South. The Pentagon depends, utterly, on small-town suckers. They are brave, trainable, not real thoughtful."
"Funny how things look if you think about them. Patriots talk about the tragic deaths of young Americans in Afghanistan. Well, okay. Other things being equal, young guys getting shot to death in a pointless war is not a swell idea. I’m against it. In fact, the more you see of it, and I’ve seen a lot, the worse an idea it seems. Of course, a logician might point out that if you didn’t send them to Afghanistan, they wouldn’t die there – would they?"
"The dead are not the only casualties. Go to a Veterans Hospital, and watch the leftovers come in. You might be surprised how much fun they didn't think it was. Or what they think of General Mattis-Firmstare. You might be very surprised."
Fred Reed
I’ll guess he fell just shy of graduating from third grade. He sure ain’t much of a general, no ways, I reckon. Just the fellow I want representing me in the world.
Does General Dworkin-Mattis speak of manhood? Odd, since his military is being badly outfought by the unmanly Afghans that are fun to kill. By the Pentagon’s figures the US military outnumbers the resistance several to one. The US has complete control of the air, enjoying F16s, helicopter gun-ships, transport choppers, and Predator drones, as well as armor, body armor, night-vision gear, heavy weaponry, medevac, hospitals, good food, and PXs. The Afghans have only AKs, RPGs, C4, and balls. Yet they are winning, or at least holding their own. How glorious.
Man for man, weapon for weapon, the Taliban are clearly superior. They take far heavier casualties, but keep on fighting. Their politics are not mine, but they are formidable on the ground. If I were General Dworkin, I’d change my name and go into hiding. Maybe he could wear a veil.
Perhaps the US should recognize that it has a second-rate military at phenomenal cost – an enormous, largely useless national codpiece. It is embarrassing. The Pentagon’s preferred enemies are lightly armed, poorly equipped peasants, which makes for a long war and thus hundreds of billions of dollars in juicy contracts for military industries. Yet the greatest military in history (ask it) gets run out of Southeast Asia, blown up and run out of Lebanon, shot down and run out of Somalia, with Afghanistan a disaster in progress and Iraq claimed as an American victory rather than Shiite. Do the aircraft carriers intimidate North Korea? No. Iran? No. China? No. For this, a trillion dollars a year?
The reasons for the mediocrity are clear enough. First, the Pentagon has become a contracting agency for buying gorgeous and elaborate arms of little relevance to the wars the US fights. (If the Martians attack, we’ll be ready.)
Second, the US is no longer a nation of hardy country boys who grow up shooting and loading hay bales into pick-ups for spare change. (For the uninitiated, hay bales are heavy.) I often see headlines such as “More than two-thirds of Texas schoolchildren flunked the state's physical fitness test this year…” If Texas has gone all soft and rubbery, you can forget about Massachusetts. The American pool of hardy, manipulable kids without too much schoolin' isn't what it was. The lack of troops of course pushes the Pentagon toward more pricey gadgetry and greater imbalance.
Now, it is regarded as treasonous to question that Our Boys are the best trained, best armed, toughest troops in the world, and I’ll probably get punched out in bars for pointing out the awful truth. Let’s imagine an experiment. We take Killing-is-Fun General Mattis-Abzug, and a thousand GIs, and a thousand Taliban, and let them fight it out in any patch of wretched barren mountains of your choosing. On equal terms. What you think? Same weapons.
Good idea, General? You eat what they eat, wear what they wear, they have no medical care, and neither do you. If they get lung-shot and die the hard way, you do too. It will come down to guts and motivation.
Motivation: It counts, general. I believe it was Bedford Forrest who said of some of his troops, “Them cane-brake boys jest plain likes to fight.” I guess there must be just a whole lot of cane in Afghanistan. The Taliban will go to any length to cut your freaking throat because you have been killing their wives and children, fathers and brothers, and you will fight for…for…well. Uh. Big oil, AIPAC, Ann Coulter. Or a promotion for General Mathis-Abzug. Anybody want to put odds on the outcome?
Or what if they had the air power, the gun ships…?
And General, killing them might be a tad less fun when you couldn’t do it from the safety of a gunship. Just a thought, General.
Fred Reed
Thanks, dick.
Despite the fact that you have the Handle of "Admiral" you don't strike me as one who has led sailors. Talking about how the US Forces are barely holding their own is intellectually dishonest. You fail to recognize that they are severely handicapped by the the policies of the General Officers appointed over them, a group of which you seem to want to pretend to be part of. If you ever were an Admiral you should be ashamed of yourself for letting you own political views on the war override your ability to reason. That seems to be a common affliction amongst General Officers.
http://www.fredoneverything.net/Mattis.shtml
the guy never been an admiral, he is a journalist.
The cardinal mistake he is making is that the problems that the US encounters in different operations have primarily NOT to do with the combat ability of its soldiers.
I has to do with incompetent political and military leadership.
Besides wars are not a question of some kind of a "medieval chivalry" contest. Wars are won by better equipped and trained soldiers but above all by correct strategy and tactics, the later being what is missing the US forces the most.
The US lost the war in Vietnam due to enormous strategical mistakes under Johnson and later by huge political mistakes under Nixon (when the correct military tactics were employed). The tragic episode in Somalia was due to military incompetence, not a lack of courage from the Rangers. This pattern has been repeated both in Iraq and Afghanistan.
As long as the US follows the pattern of supporting unpopular corrupted regimes as the alternative to enemy rule, instead of finding the correct partners and contracts a huge part of its reconstruction effort to corrupted and incompetent contractors à la Blackwater or Halliburton, it won't win a war. Add to that videogame models of dealing with an insurgency only works in ... videogames. But it's not by doing Light Brigade Charges with drawn bayonets that the Taliban will be defeated either.
Blaming "fat" and "mushy" but overequipped soldiers over the failures is indecent. Remember that British or French soldiers with a different culture and not fed on hamburgers, often less equipped than their US counterparts, deployed without AC and TGI Fridays entertainment centers, encounter the same difficulties and deal with them as much successfully or not. But what is common for all of them is that they stand under the same US leadership and for political raesons are completely unable to do anything about Karzai and his bro, Halliburton and USAID not to talk about Pakistan and ISI. There is the core of the problem, not the ability of lifting hay bales.
"Admiral" is not that well informed or even close to being accurate on what is going on at the ground level, the troops at the Tactical Level are destroying the TB and other groups every time they fight. Umm.. at the Strategic Level, well, there things get a bit soupy. The guys at the ground level can win all the battles, just like in Vietnam but if the Higher Echelons of Leadership don't stick to a working game plan and rally the people and gov't for a long stay then we can kill all the people we want too, effectively wipe out groups as a combat force and it still won't matter since all they have to do is wait till we are gone to rebuild themselves up again.
Mr. Reed likes to rant, most of his post are silly, ignorant rants and I am sure he does most of it due to being very bored at home and frustrated that he cannot be heard at times, just ignore him, he does make for an amusing frothy, mouthed poster from time to time.
Extremely ignorant. Go serve in the military or follow a combat unit around in Afghanistan before you make uninformed statements as you have above.
What kind of a man would kill someone he didn’t know for someone else he didn’t know? I suppose our opinion of such an individual would depend on the circumstances. Most people would condemn a hit man for hire even as they would praise a man who came to the defense of a little old lady in a parking lot who was being attacked with deadly force by a gang of thugs.
But what kind of a man would kill someone he didn’t know, who had never harmed or threatened him, his family, his friends, or anyone he knew for someone he didn’t know, who didn’t know him, and had never been harmed or threatened by the person he wanted killed?
And even worse, who would do such a thing at a moment’s notice, without giving it a second thought, laugh while he did it, brag about it afterward, and then expect to be lauded as a hero?
It pains me to say that the answer is a soldier in the U.S. military.
Contrast the modern-day soldier who is willing to kill for U.S. presidents with Benjamin Salmon (1889–1932). Soon after the United States declared war on Germany during World War I, Salmon wrote to President Wilson:
Regardless of nationality all men are brothers. God is "our father who art in heaven." The commandment "Thou shalt not kill" is unconditional and inexorable. . . . The lowly Nazarene taught us the doctrine of non-resistance, and so convinced was he of the soundness of that doctrine that he sealed his belief with death on the cross. When human law conflicts with Divine law, my duty is clear. Conscience, my infallible guide, impels me to tell you that prison, death, or both, are infinitely preferable to joining any branch of the Army.
Salmon soon began writing letters, giving speeches, and distributing pamphlets against the "Great War." He returned his Army registration questionnaire with a note explaining why he was refusing to fill it out: "Let those who believe in wholesale violation of the commandment, ‘Thou Shalt not Kill’ make a profession of faith by joining the army of war. I am in the army of peace, and in this army, I intend to live and die." He was subsequently arrested, tried, and convicted. While out on appeal, he was then re-arrested for refusing to report for induction into the Army. After being charged with desertion and spreading propaganda, Salmon was court-martialed on July 24, 1918, and sentenced to death. The sentence was later commuted to 25 years. All charges could have been dismissed if Salmon had agreed to make a deal and serve as a clerk in the Army, but he refused to cooperate with what he said was an institution "antithetical to Christianity."
The armistice soon ended the war, but not Salmon’s prison time in Leavenworth. After suffering in solitary confinement for five months, he was transferred to a military prison in Utah where he was beaten, starved, and stripped; that is, he was treated like some U.S. prisoners at Abu Ghraib. After spending two weeks on a hunger strike, Salmon was force-fed and then sent to a mental hospital. Thanks in part to the ACLU, he was dishonorably discharged in 1920 – from an army he never joined.
Although initially denounced by the New York Times and forsaken by his own church, Salmon persevered in his refusal to kill for Wilson. God only knows how many Americans have willingly killed for U.S. presidents since then.
Laurence Vance
I'm going to ask Gian Gentile, a man for whom I have the utmost respect, an active duty soldier whom I believe to be the most cogent military voice out there, to expand on why the sergeant major's talk doesn't "work" for him. As a Vietnam contemporary of the sergeant major's, I'm often conflicted about the whole narrative that results in me being fatally flawed or otherwise damaged as a result of combat duties. Is that what Gian's getting at? That the modern guys won't be damaged? That earlier veterans were somehow weaker? That the nation and the military/veterans system is now so good that the issues with which many of my peers and those who went before are no longer applicable?
Does Vietnam haunt me? I don't know. We're usually young when we go to war, which means we weren't fully formed as human beings when we went. My parents and friends always said I was different after the second tour. Who knows? I was in my 20s still, which means I was still developing; maybe I would have turned out the same. Fact is, I've never felt particularly debilitated from Vietnam service; I went on to serve a career in the Army and was then moderately successful in civilian life. But, honestly, yeah, I'd say there is an impact. There has to be. Combat is a life-changing experience. That the majority deals with it and turns out well is more a tribute to the strength of human beings than a testament to the beneficial aspects of war. Fact is, war sucks. Wars of choice suck even more.
I'd also like to ask Colonel Gentile if his comments are based on personal experiences or were made as a historian. The reason I say this is that Gian first went to war as a field grade commander, which means that his experience was far different than those of PFCs, sergeants and lieutenants. Everybody gets a different war, usually based on rank. Patton's war was a whole lot different than the war experienced by the troops he ordered to wear neckties. Westmoreland's war was different than mine. Everybody's perspective on war is different. We've all seen Robert Duvall in "Apocalypse Now," right? Well, you know what? Over the top as it is, we had guys like Duvall in Vietnam. A lot of guys didn't much appreciate them. Those guys are in every war. Check the casualty rates for field grades and above vs company graders and junior enlisted. Then check the PTSD rates and who suffers.
War touches everybody differently. So how about it, Gian? Care to flesh your comments out a bit?
Best, Publius
Sometimes you'd meet the combat veteran plebe, among your new classmates at the Academy, and wonder how easy it must be to bear the trivial torture of the Academy's first year after returning from the crucible.
A lot of them at that time left, now I understand why.
Tom, thank you.
Why his speech didnt work for me
Like the "Admiral" I was bothered by General Mattis's quip a while back about how war and killing is "fun" and somehow contributes to “manhood.” Maybe for him as a senior general it was, everybody is different, although one probably should inquire as to how much direct killing officers (especially generals) do in any kind of modern war. But be that as it may, personally, I thought war as I experienced it on the mean streets of Baghdad in 2006, generally sucked and sucked bad. I have never had the sensation of a "high" from war, and that once back home in the arms of my wife and children that I ever wanted to go back. To be sure I would if duty ever called as I am a serving soldier and duty bound, but I certainly don’t relish the idea or even look forward to it.
Publius is right in his previous post that combat experience is different for those who fight wars from the lowest enlisted to the highest generals. Problem is that today many experts and the MSM have turned certain senior serving generals into some kind of combination of the ultimate warrior who have elements of Alexander, Chamberlain, Sergeant York, Patton and Puller, all rolled into one. An inaccurate caricature to say the least based on their actual experience in these current wars.
Which brings me to respond to my trusted friend and big brother, Publius, as he challenged me to flesh out why the Sergeant Major’s speech “didn’t work” for me as an Iraq War combat veteran. To restate I found the speech to be supremely eloquent and masterly in its use of language. Still his voice is of a war gone by, and its message is largely from that past war—Vietnam. It rings of tropes from that war; of the combat soldier who returned from Vietnam as being isolated-at times often freakish—suffering from all of the maladies of PTSD and other psychological ailments. But then through the SGM’s voice the combat soldier is given encouragement through the notion that even if the politics of the war was wrong or misguided he can find solitude in his “golden moment,” that he did his duty. Again, Publius, these were all things that came out of your war in Vietnam. Equally the combat experience of the men who fought in World War II or World War I or American Civil War combat experience and their experiences after the war were different. Same for today’s war in Iraq and Afghanistan.
And sorry but the Sergeant Major’s speech also has the tinge of militarism in that the only true way to experience life and of citizenship is through the crucible of war and combat.
I agree Publius that combat is a life changing experience. It certainly changed mine. I am proud of the performance of my Cavalry Squadron in Iraq in 2006 even if the proprietor of this blog soiled it. Too that experience is a part of me now, and makes me what I am.
Perhaps my feelings on these things are similar to yours and the men who fought from your generation in Vietnam that during the fighting of the War there was a sense by you and others that the vets from World War II and even Korea didn’t get your war and what it was about: So too with my feelings and thoughts when I read the Sergeant Major’s talk.
It is the notion of the “timelessness” of combat experience in war that I reel against. But that powerful trope has been used over and over again in so many recent works on Afghanistan and Iraq. My colleague and friend at West Point Elizabeth Sammet in her brilliant book “A Soldier’s Heart” actually falls into that trap. So does Pete Mansoor, Craig Mullyaney, and many others in their writings about these current wars. They all draw on this “timelessness” theme but in so doing they drown out the particulars of this war and the unique combat experience of the men and women who experience it. One of the worst violators is Junger’s new book “War” which is mostly to me nothing more than war-porn. Or to put it another way Junger’s book is artificial since it constructs a caricature of fighting men in Afghanistan as if they were in a direct line with the dough-boys at St Mihiel, Dog 1 at Normandy, the Marines and Chosin, and grunts at Hamburger Hill.
So then what we are left with is an empty explanation of these current wars. To me therefore they have no real meaning or deep resonance.
gian
How is it different? In the end, it is the infantryman or other operator who is doing the fighting and dealing with the same day to day BS that has always happened for the foot soldier-problems with supply, leadership, the media, their mission, etc...and that at the end of the day they are just American Kids who have each other to rely on. While I am sure the combat is not as intense in OEF or OIF in relative terms to WWI or WWII or even Korea, the problems and gripes and situations are pretty much the same, so not sure how it is not timeless in the sense of the words usage. As for Junger, can't speak to the guys motivations but I have to be a bit skeptical that any documentary style film is like war porn. The only war porn I have ever really seen was when Hollywood tried to make anti-War films like "Full Metal Jacket", "Platoon", "Apocalypse Now", etc...
While I totally agree that most of our Flag Level Officers have little if any killing time or that to many in the media drink the Kool Aid when they worship those men and ask tactical and strategic questions that would be better answered by an E-7 to E-8 grunt or 04 and down O. I also think it is true that many guys I know do enjoy the fighting. It is not hubris, hyperbole, etc...there will always be a small population of humanity that does that, you may not like it or agree with it but it is there. They are not psychopaths or monsters and not many will be found in the regular infantry but if you shop around enough in the various SOF Communities you will find those people in numbers.
Was’te Otter, Tokheskhe yaun he? As one warrior would say to another in Lakota.
I noted the picture of the Viet-Nam eea Marine (possibly Soldier, but his boots are bloused with bands as would have been Marine fashion) has some graffiti on his cammie helmet liner - a unique way of blogging for the infantryman in that last long war; infantryman that mostly didn't continually deploy to.
I recall on one tour being asked by the company commander, while in the rear, standing in line to get my two warm rusty cans of Ballentine beer behind my platoon, if I might not be able to get a handle on what was being interpreted by battalion as objectionable and even anti-war slogans on helmet liners.
How things change, now we don't have helmet art, nor do we stand in line for beer! Nor do I see that far away look in the eyes of sunken in faces that only infantryman that haven't eaten regulary can display.
Personally, I think there are only three timeless constants that each generation of infantrymen that go to war experience that are timeless: the clash of wills, not letting our unit members down, and death.
All other experiences must surely differ from war-to-war?
Don,
Honestly, how you got all of that out of me saying that the basics do not change amazes me! lmao Seriously, how do you even take yourself seriously. You think Vietnam and our current conflicts are the first time Americans or any trooper has dealt with those type of problems? Umm...just on our side alone-the Indian Wars, the PI Insurrection, the Banana Wars, etc...etc..etc...As for the PTSD, ummm....that number has remained pretty constant as well, usually about 20-25% of folks actually get it and it also varies on how it manifests itself,. PTSD could be something as simple as nightmares to not being able to function, but hey, you mentioned it, I did not nor did it have anything to do with my post. PTSD is a constant in war and if you do some actual research on it, a big chunk of people are never affected by it. Your post is another example of the silliness you tend to spout and rant about, you place Butler up all the time and then act like he did not have the same problems with Insurgents as we do today and that can be traced back to at least the Napoleonic Wars. You are yet another example of what I see far, far to often now a days, a fool speaking and leaving no doubt as to what he is, to paraphrase an old proverb ;)
Ty,
My point was that at the end of the day the same crap even Alexander dealt with will always be there-supply, leadership, mission, etc....As for experiences, the tactics of an infantryman have not really changed that much from WWII and anyone who says they have (Don), simply does not know what they are talking about. The basics still matter-take the high ground, maneuver, flank, etc...the other constants are what you talked about. The only thing that really changes is the location, date and support you get from back home, whatever home that may be for whatever grunt unit you may be in. Yeah, those things all influence the experiences we have and how we deal with them afterwards but at the end of the day, it is still guys against guys, in the dirt and dealing with the same problems that have always plagued the combat infantryman-leadership, supply, support and mission, etc... I really think only the dates, names and places change and even the places seem to remain the same due to terrain and value of that terrain. The life of grunt, infantryman, food soldier, whatever you may call him really does not change. The technology may change but it all comes back around, heck, right now they are developing hand held weapons that might make air support outdated and that will again leave it in the hands of the foot soldier. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Sorry for the repetitive response in that post, it is Sunday, watching the game and enjoying some libations :)
I Always Learn from Gian Gentile
Gian Gentile: "So then what we are left with is an empty explanation of these current wars. To me therefore they have no real meaning or deep resonance."
Well said, Gian. Thanks.
I had SGM Farrell as a teacher for 2 years and his class was always the most challenging and enjoyable. He always said that he won't teach you French ... he'll teach you how to think.
Every minute of his class was an amazing experience.
Durk 12:
Look, and this may seem to contradict what I said in previous posts since I emphasized the personal, but this is "business" and not "personal." In that I mean tt is about intellectualism and criticism. In no way should my criticism of SGM Farrell's speech be read in any way that takes away from his greatness as a teacher, scholar, and soldier. I have no doubt that he is a superb teacher and I imagine that one of things that he emphasizes to his students is the ability to think critically and to apply independent judgment to things. That is what I tried to do when I read his speech and commented on it. I may be wrong to be sure, but this was the way that it struck me.
gian
Gian,
I have not read anything that you have posted. I simply posted my thoughts of the man after reading the article.
I see, when I just typed in the Comment box it came out as a reply to your previous comments.
Did not meant to.
No worries Durk, your post was an important one as it got to the excellence of Sergeant Major Farrell as a teacher, soldier, and scholar. It gave me an opportunity to highlight that point.
Eric, sorry, to clarify I was talking about Junger's book "War" and not his documentary Restrepo.
I am sure there are good combat soldiers who "enjoyed" war. To be honest, or me there was a sense of supreme accomplishment after completing a year of command in Baghdad. There was also the day to day sense of mission and purpose that is hard to find in any other kind of human endeavor. But what I find objectionable is the reduction of these complex feelings to tropes and buz words that mostly makes up Junger's book. Too, such hyperbole of the "enjoyment" and "high" of war helps to fuel the new American militarism in which the American people are treated to the spectacle of war, without bleeding in its process, and feel comfortable about it all because book like Junger's make it seem cool and that the soldiers in it dig and enjoy it.
gian
Gian,
While I agree, to often we tend to package and sell war but in the end many do like it, many cultures live by it (Pashtun) and I really think that many of the things that go on today are "timeless". I mean no offense to you when I say that word, I know that word disturbs you a bit but when I hear reporters or writers use that term it is usually in ref to the things I talked about that soldiers, of every generation face and will always face. That is just my opinion though and I am not some romantic with dreams of glory, I have two tours in OEF and going back for a 3rd and one real one in OIF, had a JOC spot too but do not count that one. Anyway, I do not think that American Militarism is anything new, not if you read our history and look at our culture enough, it does not take much for us to get fired up and I think, underneath we have always had a bit of the warrior culture in us as well.
As for Jungers book, I have not read it, so cannot comment on it being War Porn, will have to pick it up now and get back to you on it though. Thanks for the comments.
After reading this essay last night I found myself compelled to reply in the comments thread below and then decided that I didn't have anything of importance to add. I was not sure that I--someone who hasn't been horribly scarred by my experiences--would come across as genuine. After all, no less an authority than Corporal Vonnegut says that there's nothing good to be said about war, and BG Farrell--a man with such weight that some people will follow to any conclusion--says that by and large, you're screwed as a combat vet. And that's a problem, because sure as hell I have been there, twice (which isn't saying much these days), and was shot at and mortared and IEDed and dealt with the nonsense just like everyone else.
I slept on it last night and decided that if the only two allowable outcomes of war and combat are the extremes of:
"I love war, I can kill a whole battalion of (insert the enemy of the day) and then go back to my breakfast coffee without batting an eye."
And
"I am irrevocably ruint by war and my soul is an empty shell that may never know peace or love or beauty again."
Then I am a rare breed indeed, the combat veteran who is game to fight when there's a fight, but not overly romantic about it. But I know that I am not rare, and in fact that among the veterans I have kept company with I am about normal. The vast bulk of us are just people trying to get along with our lives and our families and our expanding waistlines and the growing complexity of our lives as children and responsibilities multiply. This I believe is the true norm and center of gravity for the combat veteran. The norm does not lie at the extremes, though BG Farrell must draw from his experience the extreme outcomes he encountered to make his point. Otherwise his speech would be so uncomfortably complex as to leave his audience unsettled.
BG Farrell's experiences are his, I'm not going to gainsay him, but mine were different than his. I left Iraq more sure of the destiny of our people, and more sure that we as a people sure as hell didn't deserve to be attacked in the way that we did. And that generally, given the technological overmatch we have over our enemies and the capacity for true wholesale slaughter that our equipment gives us, that we've been on the restrained side. Now whether we have the best elected officials? Whether we go to the best wars and prosecute them at the best time for the best reasons? That's for the voters to decide, and I don't burden myself unduly with imponderables and things that aren't mine to decide. I go where I'm told to go and I conduct myself according to how I think a man and a Soldier of the United States ought to act. Do I abuse my power, or do I conduct myself properly? That's for me to decide and since I didn't do badly I don't feel badly. Is that arrogance or is that right thinking? The right categorization into what is mine and what is not mine, it seems to me, to be a basic life skill.
Probably the best part of the whole speech is ths discussion about how he hopes as an instructor of men and women who may see combat that he will instill in them the necessary stuff of life to endure. Now, that part is as true as anything I've ever seen written about war. If a person goes into a terrible experience without sufficient reserves of will and no context for why they're suffering, then it should be no surprise that their psyche, when pushed so far back that it's like the last defense of the foxhole with knives and entrenching tools, will come out tattered. The preparation of people to endure and to do well after is no light matter and it deserves better than it's gotten. Sadly, we're not in an era where blooding our youths with how to deal with godawful situations is in vogue. We've got to somehow come to grips with that and make sure that our youths get their first bloody nose under controlled circumstances so that they don't just collapse in a heap when they meet setbacks in life.
As far as I can tell, the common refrain of the combat veteran, even one as lightly touched by combat as myself, is not being able to comprehend the bitching and the stupidity of our fellow man over trifles. And hopefully, for our troubles we are more keen about what really matters. To me, this would constitute a net gain over someone who had not gone to combat. That's where I believe the vast majority of combat veterans reside, in that slightly impatient, intolerant of fools, old curmudgeon in the making position.
BG Farrell is a wise man. He's got me beat for sure as a thinker. But we have got to bring more light to that murky middle ground where most combat veterans lie. The problem is, that work doesn't lend itself to nicely packaged homilies and it is work that never ends. Go down that path and you'll find yourself like Schliemann, digging endlessly trying to find the true Troy.
Let the digging commence.
Best,
John
I think you hit the nail on the head for a lot of it-good troops lead by poor leaders in both the civil and military side. Most vets do not grouse about what has happened to them, most do not regret their service as a matter of fact most value their service and their experience even in Wars. I recommend reading "Stolen Valor" and for a very pro-war mindset, read "Storm of Steel" by Ernst Junger. A lot of the posters here have really good insight and bring it too this blog, ignore the silly, conspiracy buying ones, they will be easy enough to tell. Cheers.
I have great respect for the good Sergeant Major's point of view, but everyone has "their own war" as anyone who has been there knows. The guy who served chow at the mess hall at Da Nang did not have the same war as the grunt on patrol in I Corps or the guy who helped take back Hue. Yet today the lines of where "the rear" is have blurred and everyone knows they're "under the gun" because of the nature of insurgent warfare. Some folks are affected, some folks not as much - and there's certainly a difference between the O-5's view of war and the E-3's perspective. But it changes all who go, if only because of the perspective it requires when you're around people who are fighting and getting blown up, whether it's the good guys, the bad guys, or the civilians. Death is the great eye-opener for all of us - even civlians when Dad dies of an unexpected heart-attack from too much kielbasa and beer.
I'll say all deserve our respect for serving, but I think John has hit it on the head. The vast majority of us are somewhere in the middle, trying to get on with our lives and take care of our own little slice. I'm proud of my service - I'm coming up on 20 as a Marine - and I've got more than 2 tours in Afghanistan (back in the early days, from 2004-06). I know guys - shooters - who liked killing bad guys, but that kind of bravado tends to dissolve when the air is grounded and suddenly you're ambushed and outnumbered. Dying and watching others die is no fun at all. But no matter what, you've got to come back and try to make ends meet, amalgamate that experience into your life in some way, and get on with the business of living. Some handle it well, some not as much - but it's not an either/or proposition, in my opinion, as both the SgtMaj and others would argue.
Wait - the extremes arguing against the vast middle - where most of us reside. Hmmm, hard to believe.
Great words, John.
Oh, and by the by, I am a little confused by the whole SGM/BG thing and my Google-fu was weak, so I never was able to figure out Dr. Farell's proper rank, so if the BG up there is wrong, I beg correction. I understand he prefers the rank of Sergeant Major.
SGM Farell was an enlisted member of the US Army. VMI commissions all of their full time professors and adminstrative personel as officers in the Virginia Militia if they had not served in the Armed Forces so for example a department head holds the rank of COL and wears a uniform with a VA on the left pocket to symbolize state militia. SGM Farell held the position of Dean of Academics which is BG position in VA so while the Army recognizes him as a SGM VMI and the Commonwelth of Virginia see him as a BG
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