This holiday always brings out a strange feeling in me. While Memorial Day is about remembering the fallen and is a somber day to reflect on sacrifices human beings have made for their fellow man, Veteran's Day elicits a mixed feeling in me.
My grandfather was a Captain in the Navy, and 3 of my great uncles all served. Even my great aunt Kaye served as a secretary in the Pentagon and with the government before it was built. My other grandfather was not in the military, but he and my oldest uncles sometimes used to go Japanese head-hunting at night as part of the Filipino resistance. When I was a younger boy, I always wanted to know about my grandfather's war stories, but for some reason, I never asked him even though I was very proud of him. To this day, I measure myself not to my father, but to my grand father.
But neither did my grandfather or great uncles tell me about WWII. Perhaps they thought I was too young, or maybe they just didn't want to tell the stories. My father never knew (or never told me) about their experiences either. And that was the great mystery.
As a young boy and teen, I had my adolescent fantasies of war, but perhaps not like others. Where others might have seen glory in war I did not (as Robert E. Lee once famously said, "It is a good thing war is so terrible, otherwise we should grow too fond of them"). As a teen, I was fascinated with the Vietnam War. The more I learned about it, the more ashamed I became of America. How could we deny a people the right to a democratic process? Did we honestly believe we were going to stop Communism and its "Domino Effect"? How could we treat the returning soldiers so cruelly and coldly?
I remember as a teen reading the book "Once a Warrior King", and the author had both of his legs and one of his arms below his elbow blown off. When he got back home from his devastating wounds, a man asked if he had served in 'Nam. The author said yes, and the man said, "serves you right". The amount of hatred and rage that boiled inside me upon hearing this was surprising, even to me. I wanted to literally kick the man in the gonads until he could no longer produce offspring.
About this same time (mid to late 80s), I was into playing role playing games. I had already graduated from Dungeons and Dragons at this point, and was playing a Post-Apocalyptic game called Twilight 2000. I was also running a campaign using the Phoenix Command rules in Vietnam. By this time, I had already read several books on the Vietnam War. Even one of my "hippie" aunts and uncles gave me a "Bright Shining Lie" by Neil Sheehan to read. The movie Platoon had also come out around that time and fascinated me.
But my roleplaying sessions were not like a youthful idolatry of desiring to be a soldier. Despite my age, I tried to inject the senselessness of the war, of comrades dying, and making the other players having to face the moral dilemma of shooting children coming at them with grenades. I remember watching Platoon with the scene where Sgt. Barnes has a gun to a little girl's head and a tear coming to my eye.
So if war seemed to terrible to me, why in the world would I want to re-enact it? Why was I seriously considering going into the military (early 90s)?
Desire.
Yes, desire or at least infatuation. I wanted to know the wisdom that these men like my grandfather and great uncles had learned. As Aeschylus said in Agamemnon (taken from http://wist.info/aeschylus/6209/):
Wisdom comes through suffering.
Trouble, with its memories of pain,
Drips in our hearts as we try to sleep,
So men against their will
Learn to practice moderation.
Favours come to us from gods.
These men saw things and experienced things that I will never truly comprehend. I do not wish to see death or have to kill others. Not by a long shot. But the idea that these men had a secret knowledge that I did not used to consume me. How could I be truly wise unless I experienced suffering like they did?
But as I got older, I realized that I can experience the pain and suffering of others without having to go through an awful war. Perhaps that is why I was attracted to Buddhism. All other religions attract you because of promises of eternal life and salvation. Not Buddhism. Buddhism offered only one thing: to be free from suffering.
It is interesting that the only path to Buddhism is through suffering. And once you have crossed the stream just a little bit, you will see that others pain is your pain too. It is immense and hard to bear at times. But then I think about what these veterans have seen, and what little suffering I have experienced pales like a stubbed toe in comparison.
So here is my salute to all veterans, past and present. It is a strange thing to be in a profession where you hope your skills are never used.
My grandfather was a Captain in the Navy, and 3 of my great uncles all served. Even my great aunt Kaye served as a secretary in the Pentagon and with the government before it was built. My other grandfather was not in the military, but he and my oldest uncles sometimes used to go Japanese head-hunting at night as part of the Filipino resistance. When I was a younger boy, I always wanted to know about my grandfather's war stories, but for some reason, I never asked him even though I was very proud of him. To this day, I measure myself not to my father, but to my grand father.
But neither did my grandfather or great uncles tell me about WWII. Perhaps they thought I was too young, or maybe they just didn't want to tell the stories. My father never knew (or never told me) about their experiences either. And that was the great mystery.
As a young boy and teen, I had my adolescent fantasies of war, but perhaps not like others. Where others might have seen glory in war I did not (as Robert E. Lee once famously said, "It is a good thing war is so terrible, otherwise we should grow too fond of them"). As a teen, I was fascinated with the Vietnam War. The more I learned about it, the more ashamed I became of America. How could we deny a people the right to a democratic process? Did we honestly believe we were going to stop Communism and its "Domino Effect"? How could we treat the returning soldiers so cruelly and coldly?
I remember as a teen reading the book "Once a Warrior King", and the author had both of his legs and one of his arms below his elbow blown off. When he got back home from his devastating wounds, a man asked if he had served in 'Nam. The author said yes, and the man said, "serves you right". The amount of hatred and rage that boiled inside me upon hearing this was surprising, even to me. I wanted to literally kick the man in the gonads until he could no longer produce offspring.
About this same time (mid to late 80s), I was into playing role playing games. I had already graduated from Dungeons and Dragons at this point, and was playing a Post-Apocalyptic game called Twilight 2000. I was also running a campaign using the Phoenix Command rules in Vietnam. By this time, I had already read several books on the Vietnam War. Even one of my "hippie" aunts and uncles gave me a "Bright Shining Lie" by Neil Sheehan to read. The movie Platoon had also come out around that time and fascinated me.
But my roleplaying sessions were not like a youthful idolatry of desiring to be a soldier. Despite my age, I tried to inject the senselessness of the war, of comrades dying, and making the other players having to face the moral dilemma of shooting children coming at them with grenades. I remember watching Platoon with the scene where Sgt. Barnes has a gun to a little girl's head and a tear coming to my eye.
So if war seemed to terrible to me, why in the world would I want to re-enact it? Why was I seriously considering going into the military (early 90s)?
Desire.
Yes, desire or at least infatuation. I wanted to know the wisdom that these men like my grandfather and great uncles had learned. As Aeschylus said in Agamemnon (taken from http://wist.info/aeschylus/6209/):
Wisdom comes through suffering.
Trouble, with its memories of pain,
Drips in our hearts as we try to sleep,
So men against their will
Learn to practice moderation.
Favours come to us from gods.
These men saw things and experienced things that I will never truly comprehend. I do not wish to see death or have to kill others. Not by a long shot. But the idea that these men had a secret knowledge that I did not used to consume me. How could I be truly wise unless I experienced suffering like they did?
But as I got older, I realized that I can experience the pain and suffering of others without having to go through an awful war. Perhaps that is why I was attracted to Buddhism. All other religions attract you because of promises of eternal life and salvation. Not Buddhism. Buddhism offered only one thing: to be free from suffering.
It is interesting that the only path to Buddhism is through suffering. And once you have crossed the stream just a little bit, you will see that others pain is your pain too. It is immense and hard to bear at times. But then I think about what these veterans have seen, and what little suffering I have experienced pales like a stubbed toe in comparison.
So here is my salute to all veterans, past and present. It is a strange thing to be in a profession where you hope your skills are never used.
