I won’t be at work this Veterans Day. I’m taking a day without pay. I’ll be at a beach on the eastern coast of the United States. It will likely be cold, windy and devoid of people. No one will wish me a happy Veterans Day or thank me for my service. I will be happy.
I’ve been a veteran for 20 years. The gratitude I’ve received on Veterans Day over the past two decades has always been well intentioned, and I certainly never resented anyone who offered it. For a time, I used to consider telling people that they wouldn’t thank me if they knew what I had done, or that they wouldn’t use the word happy if they knew of the years I’d spent abusing various substances to feel that way. But I’m glad I stayed quiet. Sarcasm and cynicism would not have cured my bitterness.
Veterans Day is complicated. I’m still bitter. But I’m also proud. There isn’t one single word to sum up what the experience meant to me. Some of it was funny, some of it sad, some of it frustrating and some of it rewarding. Much of it was terrifying. There’s no analogy, simile or literary device potent enough to capture the memory of my military experience. After years of interacting with veterans from around the world, I’m convinced the same is true for them as well.
Not all veterans have gone to war. Not all veterans served with elite units or participated in secret missions. Not all veterans have regrets, nightmares, scars or wounds. Not all veterans are homeless. What veterans do have in common is the shared and sacred experience of making a choice that so few were willing to make. We chose to join when others wouldn’t.
What we joined was an organization that demanded we put others first. No matter what else you think of when you think of veterans and military service, you must think of sacrifice. Veterans sacrificed their time, their personal freedom and their financial well-being. Many, if not most, sacrificed a significant portion of their health. Ankles, knees, elbows and backs deteriorate much faster for those who spent years pushing so hard to complete a daily mission, whatever it might have been.
Sacrifice isn’t always sacred. Sometimes it’s obscene, as it was in 1918 when the armistice ending World War I went into effect at 11 a.m., on the 11th day, of the 11th month. It’s a cute play on numbers, and it’s why we recognize veterans on Nov. 11. It is also abhorrent. The armistice had actually been signed six hours earlier, and likely agreed to days in advance. Still, for the sake of numerology, the armies kept shooting. Soldiers kept dying. Finally, at 11 a.m., when the numbers aligned, the artificial sacrifice was permitted to end. Thanks for your service. Happy Veterans Day.
I went to war. Twice. The memories of that time have had ineffable consequences on my life. But that’s not what I think about when I think about being a veteran. Instead, I think about my fifth week of service in the Army. I was in basic training. It was Sunday. The drill sergeants lined us up and prepared to march us off to church. But on this particular Sunday, I elected not to go. A small group of us volunteered to stay behind and clean the barracks while the rest were given a two-hour reprieve in the sanctuary of their choice.
For two hours I scrubbed the toilets and polished the floors with a dozen other young soldiers who were regretting their choice to join. Yet somehow, we were happy, content in the knowledge that our sacrifice would one day be worth it.
When I balance it all, the pride, the pain, the humor and the horror, I’m left conflicted. I didn’t benefit from my service in the Army. I don’t want anything in return. But as I age, it’s impossible not to dwell on the overwhelming gap between those who sacrificed and those who didn’t. And it’s impossible now to prevent one powerful and intrusive thought: I should never have joined.
This is a contributed opinion column. Eric Fair is a freelance writer living in Bethlehem. The views expressed in this piece are those of its individual author, and should not be interpreted as reflecting the views of this publication. Do you have a perspective to share? Learn more about how we handle guest opinion submissions at themorningcall.com/opinions.
