A Word About Our Troops

Over the past few days I’ve seen the pictures on television and the internet, long lines of young men and women in dusty brown fatigues loaded down with fifty pounds of gear, marching across tarmacs, climbing into those enormous C17 transport airplanes. There are no military bands playing, no crowds of well-wishers sending them off, just a long line of twenty year olds who volunteered for the job of going to war.

I am always stirred by the sight. Who are these men and women? What possesses them to sign up for such duty? Who do they leave behind? How many will never come back? I am stirred because I am proud of their courage. I am stirred because so many of my ancestors were in the military. And yes...I am stirred because I am a patriot. I love my Country and when I see long lines of troops being deployed I know that we are sending the best men and women we have to offer. But I also know that most of us will forget about them in a week or so once the football playoffs get going. They will fall out of the headlines in our newspapers. Once again it will be impeachment news or campaign coverage. So, while the feelings are tender, I write.

But there is another emotion besides pride that rises in me when I see these long intrepid lines. Sadness. My patriotism is always tempered by sadness. I love them. I’m proud of their devotion and willingness to fight our battles...but why do we keep asking them to do this? Why do we insist on sending thousands of them, year after year, to the same hellish place? Why is every fight our fight?

Our military exists to fight, to attack and defend, to break things and kill people. I fully understand their mission. But what is the existential threat that requires them to give the last full measure of their devotion...in Iraq? Tribal, barbaric, eternally dysfunctional...Iraq? 

When we lost 50,000 men fighting Nazi Germany we all understood that the sacrifice was worth it. When this nation lost nearly 600,000 Americans fighting the Civil War, the cause was just. But what of the modern Middle East? Our Allies are despicable authoritarian regimes (Saudi Arabia). We are killing horrible men with dangerous intentions. But other horrible men rise up like mushrooms after a week of rain as their replacements. They attack our embassy somewhere, a garrison somewhere and we have to respond. Then the cycle continues for what feels like eternity. Why is it that they always attack us? Mostly, because we are every where they look. Our presence in that part of the world is ubiquitous. We are the target because we choose to be. As the world’s policeman, we insist on having a precinct in every God-forsaken neighborhood on the planet. What do we get for all of this police work? Long solemn lines of men and women in dusty brown fatigues, loaded down with fifty pounds of gear climbing into C17 transport planes...and a lump in our throats.

Yes, we pray for them. But perhaps we should also pray for our civilian leadership as well, that at long last there will arise in the halls of  power...wisdom and sound judgment worthy of our military’s courage and devotion.