| By @BGinKC
No, I didn't become a gazillionaire overnight.
I am a 1%-er today because it's Veteran's Day, and my family is in that exceedingly small number -- 1% -- of people who either are serving or have served in the military. And while I am no longer ironing uniforms and no one in my household is rolling out or shouldering a ruck these days, that was the case for many, many years.
Most of the time it was just a job -- except for a hundred hours in 1991 -- and we did it without complaint. It was a good life, and we loved living it, giving it our all and never once pining for that wind-swept wide spot in the middle of a two-lane blacktop that will always, even if we never set foot on the town square again, be "home."
That place -- no jobs, no opportunities and no hope that will ever change -- has been the impetus for people in both our families to join up in the first place for generations. We just broke the cycle with our kids by not going back there.
And that's the dirty little secret. Civilians who don't know shit about the life and the sacrifices of military people don't realize that in the preponderance of cases, the decision to join up is economic. It's a steady paycheck, and it's money for school after your hitch. Period and full stop.
And since 9/11 there's a new wrinkle, and I admit freely that it took me aback. Right after our nation was attacked on September 11, 2001 random people started saying "thanks."
No one ever did that before. I finally decided that they're quick to say thanks because they're thankful other people do the stepping up so they and theirs don't have to even think about it.
The nation has been quick to tell veterans how grateful it is. Nine in 10 veterans who served in Iraq or Afghanistan told Pew researchers someone has thanked them for their service. At the same time, 84 percent say the public doesn't understand the problems that military families face. Longtime war correspondent Tom Ricks says he worries about the widening gap between the 1 percent of Americans who now fight U.S. wars and the 99 percent who are increasingly detached from military service.
"I'm always struck when I'm in that part of America where nobody knows anybody in the military," Ricks said. "And they're still sort of puzzled about why people do this and what it means. Then there's other parts of the country, usually around bases, where everybody knows somebody. And it simply is a different America."
Ricks, who is now with the Center for a New American Security, recalls talking with a kindergarten teacher just outside Fort Campbell, Ky., the home of the 101st Airborne Division and some key special forces.
"She said one day a kid came running in off the playground and said two Black Hawks collided over Mosul," Ricks recalled. "She said, 'Do you know what that means? To be a kindergartener and know what a Black Hawk is? To know what Mosul is? And to know the implication: that some of our parents might be dead?' "
Saying "thanks" is easy.
It's far easier than understanding the implications of service, and it's sure as hell easier than putting your own ass on the line or going to sleep at night, like we do, knowing that on the other side of the globe, you have a loved one -- in our case two nephews -- who are waking up and donning their battle gear for another day of patrols.
Does your heart stop when your phone rings and it's your sister-in-law?
Mine does. She rarely calls just to chat, so when her number pops up and I'm not expecting to hear from her, I have to compose myself and take a deep breath before I answer, bracing myself for the worst news imaginable.
With over a decade between us and active duty, we have settled into civilian life quite nicely, and indeed, there are people we interact with now -- at school, or in social groups, for instance -- that are surprised to find out after some time has passed that we're in that 1%.
But we sure can spot our own. We can tell by the way you walk across campus whether you have ever marched or not, and when I see someone sitting in the hallway outside a class, using their backpack as a chair back to lean against, I know that's someone who has carried a ruck.
At the height of the war in Iraq, when we were losing over a hundred soldiers a month, hearing the words "thanks for your service" made me bristle. You have no idea how many times I wanted to snap "talk is cheap," but I never did, probably because I have discipline. So I would just smile faintly and nod, and say "no thanks necessary." |
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