Wednesday, December 24, 2008

War

The following is something that was written by a former Marine that I used to work with. He is one of the nicest human beings I have ever met and had the pleasure of working with. He changed the way I felt about Marines and broke the stereotype. This man served in Vietnam and brought home with him his experiences, good and bad. He talked about the problems he used to have and what he did to make good with them. He turned his life around and counseled other soldiers who were experiencing the problems he had. He gave me this short paper he wrote and asked that I read it and pass it on to anyone else that I felt could benefit from it. So I am making it public here on my profile, and if you know of anyone that this can benefit, please feel free to pass it on.

War
WAR IS AN UGLY THING!
It strips us of our dignity. It steals our youth. It blinds our faith. But most of all, it's what it makes us become.
One can argue that war is an honorable thing. Something to hold unto yourself to be proud of. However, the concept of fighting for the country becomes secondary to fighting for one's beliefs. Even this is questioned at times, and when this occurs, the person changes,
When the question of "why" creeps into the minds of soldiers, not only will the complexion of war change, but more importantly, the individual. He no longer has the pride, the professionalism, the integrity, or the reason to continue. He then questions himself. He quickly becomes a robot going through the motions and living on adrenaline. The "high" that is incomparable to any drug, but is more addictive. The rush of pitting one's self against another where death is the consequence of failure, becomes an event greatly anticipated.
This creates an irony that can seldom be explained, but is understood by the many who have been placed in this situation. To receive the "high" the soldier only has to kill, but at what cost? This individual will forget, or lose, what he once was. He will be forced to commit acts against humanity that many cannot fathom, let alone understand. Now the soldier has a different war to fight. One that is relentless.
WAR IS AN UGLY THING, BUT NOT THE UGLIEST OF THINGS!
From this point of view, war isn't relegated to the battlefields, but rather something that is carried on long after the physical fighting has concluded. This "secondary war" is often more damaging and more destructive. Not to property or personnel, but to the individual.
How do you replace the "high?" How do you change the loss of self-respect? How do you change the perception of having done wrong?
The individual is now worthless! The individual has no intrinsic value, nothing to offer. After all—"He's a very bad person." He now believes the nightmares are his penance, his "Ghosts," destined to remain with him through eternity. Ironically, unless the individual is willing to begin another war and draw a line in the sand—this is true!
The individual who attempts to change will fail! There is no need to change who you are, but rather get in touch with that other person again. We all are basically good, and only when that is realized, do we begin to replace the negative feelings with something more positive.
How do you do this? Let's mention from the start that working on yourself is an "ass kicker!" Now matter how little self-respect the individual believes he has, there is always some. Let's also mention that this individual will not begin this process until he feels he has hit bottom—contemplating suicide, etc.
The one tangible in all of this is self-esteem. We all crave it, and this is the basis for becoming the person we want to be. It may be that it takes someone outside the individual's world to see the problems. It may be that the individual himself sees what's wrong and can take steps necessary to get his life back on track. This is rare, and would take an unbelievable strong individual indeed. Whatever the circumstance, there is always a way out. It is not an embarrassment to ask for help, but the individual who is fighting the war sees this as another lost battle, thereby lowering his self-esteem even more.
This is where the war changes. People's paths cross for a reason. Wars are traumatic, whether they are fought with guns or in every day life. From the individual's perspective, spousal abuse, child abuse, natural disaster survivor, etc., are just as bad as any international war. Each creates what is now referred to as "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" (PTSD). There will always be someone who fought the same war you are fighting. This individual will not only be able to sympathize with you, but empathize as well.
Each individual must find a way to exorcise the "Ghosts." To what extent, is an individual thing, which depends entirely upon the severity of the PTSD. One this is certain, all "Ghosts" must be confronted and dealt with. If it is a wrong that was done to someone, an attempt must be made to correct the wrong. It must also be noted that not all attempts will be successful. However, the attempt is the important issue. Each attempt will continue to build self-esteem and self-respect.
There will be "Ghosts" that can never be exorcised. There will never be a way to make restitution. At this point, the individual must find a way to make peace within himself. This could be something as small as saying a prayer, to planting a tree, or actually talking to the "Ghosts." The point is: What works for one individual may not work for another, but there will always be something that will work for everyone.
Please understand that the "Ghosts" will always be with you, and that's good, because the "Ghosts" are what will keep you from making the same mistake(s) again. As unbelievable as it may sound, having the "Ghosts" around becomes a very real and tangible source of strength that no one but you possesses.

Vincent

December 24, 2008 – Christmas Eve – Grass Valley, CA
It was just another stop at the grocery store to pick up some last minute provisions for Christmas, meandering through the holiday crowd, trying to get out the door and back home to get the ham cooking. As my mom and I were exiting the store, I looked over and noticed a blonde woman and her teenage son waving at us. I slowed down and waved back, not recognizing who it was, but assuming that she was waving at my mom, I stopped her and pointed her towards who was waving. My mom turned and instantly recognized them, telling me that it was Vincent. I couldn’t have been more surprised.
It was back in 2000 or 2001, when I was still a volunteer with the Nevada County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue, when we got a call for a missing autistic boy off Squirrel Creek Rd. His name was Vincent. He had gone missing a year before, turning up at a neighbor’s house down the street. Now he had taken off again. So, our first night was spent knocking on a lot of doors, checking the neighborhood and the woods behind his home. Also missing was the family dog, which was reassuring, because we knew that the dog would be with Vincent, protecting him wherever he went and keeping him warm. It was a long night, as we did not find anything, and it was getting cold. But there was no giving up.
Early the next morning, we widened the search area and I found myself on a quad-runner with some of the other guys, checking every trail, under every bush, in every possible direction we could think of. When there was still no sign of him or the dog, we kept going, rechecking areas we had already checked and looking for more areas we hadn’t. The day dragged on, ever so slowly, like God was giving us more time to find him. Still nothing.
Daylight was running out, the temperature was dropping again, and we knew that if we didn’t find Vincent tonight, he might not survive another night. We got on our quad-runners once again and went down a dirt road that led to a wooded area about a mile behind Vincent’s home. It was an area that had been checked earlier that day, but when you’re dealing with a young autistic boy on the move, there was no telling which direction he would be going. The three of us dismounted and checked the map. We decided to start walking into the woods to check a small ravine. I walked along the bottom of the ravine, while Gary and Josh stayed up top to my left and right. We walked slowly, taking turns calling his name, looking for any clues on the ground in front of us and around us. It was quiet and it was cold, but God was with us that day. He was with Vincent. As we walked, and as we called out for Vincent, we got a reply. “Grandma?” We stopped, afraid to make a sound. Again, we heard it. “Grandma?” First we looked at each other, making sure that we had all heard it. Then they looked, and there he stood. “There he is,” I heard one of them call. I walked up to the top of the ravine on my left and saw for my own eyes. A young boy stood there, frozen in place, his dog standing guard, barking at us as we stood frozen in place as well, so surprised by our discovery.
Did we find Vincent or did Vincent find us? We approached cautiously so as not to alarm the dog and let him know that we were there to help Vincent. Sensing this, the dog submitted and allowed us to check Vincent. He was a little nervous, a bit cold, and a little stinky from weathering the elements, but he was on his own two feet and ready to go home. A call went out over the radio to the Incident Command Center back up the road, notifying them that Vincent was alive and well and we were bringing him back. I took off my jacket and put it around Vincent to keep him warm and we took turns carrying him back to where we had parked the quad-runners. With the dog at our sides, Gary loaded Vincent in front of him on his quad and we made the return trip with a helicopter over our heads and three satisfied minds.
This memory has always stayed fresh in my mind, and so it feels like it only happened recently. It wasn’t until today, upon seeing Vincent and his mom Deanna that I realized that about eight years had passed and Vincent was now a teenager, still struggling with autism. I don’t believe Vincent recognized me, as it had been so long, but he still wanted to give me a hug and wish me a Merry Christmas, as he truly is a kind-hearted boy.
Before parting, Deanna gave me her email address and told me to email her so we could stay in contact. I shook Vincent’s hand and wished him and Deanna a Merry Christmas before walking out the door. It was such a surprise to me to see them after all these years, and it has now brought back feelings that I hadn’t felt since that day.
Their lives have changed over the years, as has mine. When we were searching for Vincent, I was at a time in my life when I was very unsure in my faith. I had so many unanswered questions and still doubted that God was real. Recently though, life has taken a huge turn for the better. A year ago I started going through basic training, and at the same time started reconnecting with God. In June of 2008 I arrived at my first duty station in Savannah, GA and met the love of my life in November of that same year. As our relationship grew stronger, she made it clear to me that if I wanted to be with her, I had to have a strong relationship with God. It was through her that I started strengthening that relationship, in turn strengthening my relationship with her.
Everyday I feel myself coming closer to God, and everyday I feel my love for Laura growing stronger. It is because of this that my life is becoming so real and how the meaning of life is becoming so clear. To love and be loved. Is that the true meaning of life? I cannot say for sure. What I can say for sure though is that is my answer to the meaning of life. What is yours?