| May 20, 2005 Alaskan in Exile by Neil Zawicki “War does not
ennoble men, it makes beasts of them.”
Those are the words of the narrative voice in the film, “The Thin Red Line,” adapted from the book by James Jones. He wrote the book from his own experience as a combat soldier at Guadalcanal in World War II. In the film, as those words are spoken, the visual is of an infantryman stumbling around drunk with a bottle of booze the day after a major battle with the Japanese. The rest of his company wander randomly in the background, some staring, some wrestling, all of them loaded drunk. It is raining heavily and the jungle is wet and muddy. That is a glimpse of the experience of men in war – before the historians and the brass bands and the Medals of Honor put a fine glaze on the reality. That is what the veterans know. We’re making a lot of veterans these days. A majority of them are finding it very hard to adjust once they return from Iraq. Many are homeless, others get divorced, and some commit suicide. Some veterans report mild adjustment difficulties, but strange ones nonetheless. One returned soldier in Oregon says he gets impatient and jumpy when he’s stuck in traffic, because in Iraq, stopping in traffic means getting ambushed. What will the mark of this war be? What tone will the stories take when it ends? Already stories are emerging, and someday we as a nation will have to come up with a monument to Iraq War veterans. I’ve been to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC. I went when I was 12 years old, the year it was dedicated. The veterans gathered at The Wall in their faded battle dress, and touched the wall where their buddies’ names are engraved. There are 53,000 buddies, sons, husbands and brothers on that wall. Each one deserves our respect. It is common among Vietnam Veterans not to pity the ones who were killed; they’re done. It’s the ones that survived that still carry the burden of what they saw and what they did. The Pentagon is proud in this war to report a more than 90 percent survival rate among wounded soldiers. More than 90 percent of the soldiers hit in Iraq get to carry the burden of what they saw and what they did. A large number are not carrying it well, and who can blame them? One Veterans Day in Alaska, when I wrote for the Alaska Star and Alaska Military Weekly, I was sent to Fort Rich to cover the commemoration ceremony of that day. I was supposed to take pictures of the honor guard and the brass band, and relay the words the leaders spoke on the valor and sacrifice of our soldiers. At one point in the ceremony, two bugles, positioned at the front and back of the massive, packed meeting hall, played Taps. We all stood for the performance. As the mournful song filled the hall, the man next to me decided to stand also, which was nearly impossible for him, as he was wheelchair-bound. He was in his early 50s, and wore a Vietnam-era fatigue shirt, and a bush hat with pins and patches declaring him a veteran of that war. He pulled himself to his feet by gripping the chair in front of him, and struggled to stand through most of the song. When he finally was standing – holding himself up on the chair, he began to sob and shake, and he bowed his head. I didn’t take any pictures of that. Neil Zawicki, exiled Alaskan, is Editor at Large for Insurgent49, a former reporter for the Alaska Star, and winner of the Alaska Press Club's 'Best Columnist' award. He is now living out the rest of his days in an undisclosed location in Oregon. He can be contacted at - neil@insurgent49.com |
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Columnists -
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May 13, 2005 May 6, 2005 April 29, 2005 April 21, 2005 April 14, 2005 April 7, 2005 April 1, 2005 - also by this
writer -
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| Copyright 2005
Insurgent Media. All Rights
Reserved. in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership. |
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