I never wanted my time in the army to define me. I didn’t even want to acknowledge that it was a part of me, yet I keep bringing it up in just about every blog entry. The truth is that I was a soldier for 5 years and I can never escape that, no matter how badly I want to. Being a veteran, even a reluctant one, carries with it so many conflicting emotions that I can barely make sense of. I’m not proud of my “service;” I hated every day I was forced to put on that uniform. I was disgusted with most of my fellow soldiers, the situations we were put in, and the seeming lack of reason to anything anyone ever did. I don’t believe I was helping to uphold some altruistic values, but a pawn among countless other pawns shuffled around for the gain of people I would never see. I feel ashamed to have worked in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the propaganda work I did as part of a Public Affairs Office fills me with guilt.
I’m not saying all soldiers should feel this way. There are those that truly believe in the American ideals of freedom and justice we were “defending.” There were and are hard working honest to god heroes doing what they think is right in our nation’s military, just as there are undoubtedly in any nation with a standing army. I respect those people. The fact that I was never one of them only adds to my shame. I suffered the hardships and inconveniences of war, but never believed in the purpose for it. I lived a lie for 5 years, and that has taken its toll.
I carry the burden of shame and guilt as I struggle to find a place in the civilian world. It seems obvious to me that I’m different than everyone else, and that any “regular” person can see I’m not one of them. I didn’t belong in the army, and now I struggle to figure out how to belong out here with the rest of you. And yet the feeling of being a veteran is full of contradictions. I find myself rolling my eyes at the “hardships” people face in their everyday lives. The trivial problems and complaints of well-to-do whiners put me on edge. I’ve seen real pain and true suffering, and anything less seems like it’s a gift wasted on the selfish masses. I feel inferior and judgmental at the same time. I hide my military past and do my best to show no signs of that former life, yet I’m convinced I have some deeper understanding of life thanks to all I was forced to see and endure. There’s simply no way to be whoever I would’ve been had I not enlisted when I was 18. Somehow I have to balance these conflicting feelings inside me and discover how I can live my life from here on out.
My father is a career army officer. A colonel who graduated West Point Military Academy 25 years ago. He truly believes in the army values that I see as blatant hypocrisy: “Loyalty, “Duty,” “Respect,” “Selfless Service,” “Honor,” “Integrity,” and “Personal Courage.” Based on my experiences, I can barely type those words without my upper lip curling into a righteous sneer. He believes them though, and has done his best to exemplify them for most of his life. He sees my time in the army as something to be proud of, and a shared experience we can bond over. This fills me with more conflict, guilt, and shame. I respect him for what he’s done and his devotion to causes and ideals he believes are right while at the same time rejecting those ideals and causes for myself. I’m reminded of my five years of misery every time I speak to him. His voice swells with pride as he mentions names and places I’d do anything to forget. My rejection hurts him, but I feel as if I have no choice. More guilt. More confusion. More shame.
Today several West Point cadets are staying at my father’s house; they’re in town for some presentation to high school kids or something. He wants me to stop by the house and meet them. I imagine I’m expected to offer a little insight into active military life as a young person, to give them a little taste of the enlisted man’s experience. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable and downright terrified by the prospect. I feel that I’m simultaneously above and below such an act. Honesty would disappoint my father and probably confuse a couple of idealistic overachieving kids intent on a future I despise. Extolling the army’s virtues is out of the question; I’m no longer a member of its Public Affairs office and I’m desperate to live by MY values, if I ever figure out exactly what they are. I feel like I owe it to my dad to see these kids. I know they’ll be judging me as much as I’ll be judging them. I never dreamed my life would be filled with conflicts like this, but I guess I just have to deal with them. I don’t know if I’ll ever make sense of the conflicts and paradoxes slugging it out inside me. I have to try, I guess. Just like we all do. I guess that’s life.
Time to go meet some West Point kids.
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