A Marine, Six Months After Iraq
by
Justine Nicholas
by Justine Nicholas
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Steve
has been home for six months now.
To be more
precise, he has been here in the States, staying with various friends
and relatives, since he returned from a tour of duty with the Marines
in Iraq just before Christmas. Going back to where he was born and
raised – the projects of South Jamaica, in the New York City borough
of Queens – is not an option, he says.
It’s not physical
dangers that are keeping him from his old stomping grounds. After
a year in Iraq and a year in Afghanistan (and a class with me between
those two tours of duty – oh, my!), Steve can handle himself when
there is a threat. Likewise, he is not avoiding his past, I think:
Most of his family and friends aren’t in the neighborhood anymore.
Equally important, he says, is the fact that he’s "changed."
Although I
could see ways in which he’s worked, or is working, through questions
about his life and his world, I asked him "How so?"
"I understand
now that I don’t owe allegiance to anyone or anything besides my
mother, the guys who were there with me, and maybe a couple of other
people." Though his pronouncement didn’t surprise me, I was
taken aback. To say the least, it is a stunning reversal from the
oaths Marines and other members of the armed forces take upon joining.
In fact, it flies in the face of just about anything most of us
have been taught or have absorbed from our schools, workplaces and
nation. To hear those words from someone who just two years ago
could not drink legally made them still more jarring, at least for
me.
He announced
that he wanted "nothing more to do" with any aspect of
any military or paramilitary organization, anywhere. He stays in
touch with "a couple of buddies" who, like him, came to
realize that they were no more fighting for their country – "whatever
that is," he sneers – than Fox News is in the business of conveying
the truth to the public. (I can only imagine the conversations they
have or the e-mails they exchange!) Other than those friendships,
he says he wants nothing more from his time in the Marines.
So intent is
he on breaking his ties that he won’t avail himself to the psychiatric
and medical care the government offers veterans. "Those doctors
are the worst," he groans. Family members and friends have
urged him to take advantage of those services. "After all,
you’re entitled to them," they say. To them, he responds, "Just
because you’re entitled to something, that doesn’t mean it’s good
for you!" He echoes a belief commonly held among veterans –
one for which there is more than anecdotal evidence – that the purpose
of military medicine is to "patch up and cover up." The
doctors and psychiatrists "only know how to fix someone up
enough to get him on the battlefield" and "cover up their
mistakes, which they make a lot of."
Fortunately
for him, he didn’t suffer any physical injuries beyond a couple
of superficial wounds. However, he feels anger at the way he feels
his country "abandoned" him and his buddies by sending
them into a conflagration sparked by US involvement in the region
and continuing by ongoing American presence. To aid the causes of
duplicitous plutocrats, he and his buddies were sent through desolate,
hostile areas to drive empty, unarmored vans. To protect themselves,
they and their families provided them with flack jackets and other
gear at their own expense.
And, after
paying for his own defense while ostensibly serving in his country’s
defense, he is now spending the money he has been earning from various
odd jobs for the services of a psychiatric social worker. He plans
to return to school, although his goals may differ from those he
had when he was my student, he says. In the meantime, he says, "I
want to get at the truth and get myself together." To that
end, he has read "more than I ever have before," including
two books by Vietnam veterans that I recommended: Song
of Napalm, a collection of poems by Bruce Weigl, and At
Hell’s Gate by Claude Anshin Thomas. I also steered him
to a number of anti-war essays and articles, including some that
have been published on this site, just to show him how diverse are
those who want and work for peace and prosperity.
What
has he learned, I asked him. "At the end of the day, there
are only people. We only have each other. Sometimes we can depend
on them, but we can only be sure of ourselves. And don’t expect
any organization – especially any government – to give you what
you need or make you whole."
If only I had
such understanding when I was his age! Then again, I guess I should
count my blessings that I didn’t have to experience what he has
in order to gain the wisdom we now share.
July
4, 2007
Justine
Nicholas [send her mail]
teaches English at the City University of New York.
Copyright
© 2007 LewRockwell.com
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