I am a retired military officer and support the real war on terror, but opposed our invasion of Iraq and continue to oppose that disastrous war.
But, you betcha, I support the troops. My support does not consist of just displaying a “Support the Troops” magnet—see below. I support them by praying that as few of them as possible will make the ultimate sacrifice or return home with horrible physical or mental injuries.
But, I also back-up my hopes and prayers by writing articles and letters to the editor and to our legislators supporting bills and funding for better protection for our troops in harm’s; for better pay and benefits for those on active duty; and especially for better health, mental and financial care for those veterans who return home in dire need of such—those who, upon their return, face homelessness, poverty, drug addiction, incarceration, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder and even attempt to commit suicide, or sadly succeed in this.
Lawrence Downes has a touching article in today’s New York Times on how the war on terror, “which has now lasted longer than World War II, is producing a growing family of combat veterans. It’s a disconnected family, large and far-flung, but close in ways that battle-tested soldiers always are.”
It is an eye-opening story of how mutual support, a rap session, a “45-degree guy hug,” can do much more for these veterans than “Support the Troops magnets” and even medication checks and group therapy.
A couple of the veterans’ comments and views from “Veterans, Alone Together, Share Stories They Can’t Tell You.” Please read it all, and support our troops:
Kevin Cajas: “We were exposed to trauma so much we became addicted to it. We became trauma junkies. It doesn’t go away, so you’ve just got to learn how to manage it. I liked it; I’m not going to lie.”
And,
We were the go-to platoon. When you’re on the go, you’re in a manic rage of violence, nonstop. My body’s just accustomed to that. I picked up my friends’ body parts. My roommate got his face blown off.
The veterans broke into small groups, for the workshop’s most wrenching part. At a picnic table under a tree, Mr. Cottrell shared worst-moment stories with Michael Gillespie, Stephen Wade and a workshop leader, Abel Moreno. He told about trying frantically to save a soldier whose truck had been blown up, who had lost parts of both legs, and died in the hospital. Mr. Wade then told of phoning his wife, who put her new boyfriend on the line. She called him a bad husband for going to Iraq. He is praying a judge grants him custody of his little girl.
The author is a retired U.S. Air Force officer and a writer.