You Sent Us to War Now Listen

My war has been over for nearly two decades. I took off the uniform, balled it up, and shoved it deep inside a musty green Army duffel bag. It now lives unceremoniously in my attic.

I’m not sure why I saved my uniforms. I don’t have any children. I’ll never have an heir. There’s really no one to pass this stuff down to. In the end, I’m the only one who cares for these vestiges of a life once lived. I pretend not to care. But I do. It’s something I can’t explain, something you’ll never understand if you never wore the uniform.

There’s no value in that rip-stop cotton other than what it represents to me. On one hand, it’s a reminder of my former self. On the other, it’s like shedding snakeskin, making way for future growth. I’ve been out of the service three times longer than I was enlisted. Still, that small portion of my life carries the most formative weight. Again, it’s hard to explain, and I doubt you’ll ever understand.

Twice a year, people remember me as their token veteran. I’m thanked rightfully on Veterans Day and wrongfully on Memorial Day. Still, I nod, acknowledging their thankfulness and pushing those emotions back down inside my duffel bag of memory. For something so important to the construction of the man I am today, I often both wish I could go back and equally wish I could forget. The duality and dissonance of my time in the military is a constant ebb and flow of introspective reckoning.

As veterans, we are charged with at least trying to make civilians understand what they sent us to do. As a friend recently mentioned, just because the public didn’t serve in America’s wars doesn’t mean they weren’t complicit. The voting populace sent their youth to wage wars on their behalf. They may not have seen the blood in the sand, but they are equally responsible for that stain. So, for every “thank you for your service,” there’s a counterpart: “I only did what you sent me to do.”

What you will never understand is the weight we carry as a result. I aim to share the load. So, when you thank a servicemember, take an extra moment to listen to what you’re thanking them for. The stories we keep bottled up need to be uncapped. Our duty was to serve. Yours is to listen. You still won’t understand. You simply cannot. Listening to their experiences will help you come to a better understanding.

People wax poetic about the veteran suicide epidemic as if fundraising and chest-beating public displays are going to solve a problem they can’t fathom in the first place. Simply asking questions of your veteran comrades would be a bigger step in the right direction. Sit with them in the silence if that’s what it takes. Veterans aren’t victims.

Many of us carry survivor’s guilt, the guilt of not doing enough, not fighting the right wars, not having the right military job, or simply not measuring up to whatever litmus our peers did. This is by design. This competitive jockeying keeps servicemembers moving the needle forward and keeps the war machine grinding. We don’t want to appear weak. Many of us don’t know how to communicate the intangibles to folks who don’t want to hear our stories. That is a crushing weight.

So, although you, Joe Civilian, may never understand, it’s your duty to try. Your votes sent us to the bad places. Your emotional fist-shaking charged us to topple regimes or quell insurgencies, or arm them. It’s high time you help us carry the load.

Most veterans don’t tell you their stories because they think you won’t care, or they diminish their service experience because Hollywood only highlights certain professions in the military. Whether they deployed to combat or not, served as a door-kicking grunt, administrative clerk, or something in between, they raised their right hand and served on your behalf. Their service matters. You are complicit, so lend them an ear, and when you thank them for their service, mean it. Help us carry the weight. You may never understand, but you can try.

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Stan Lake is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker currently living in Bethania, North Carolina with his wife Jess and their house full of animals. He split his time growing up between chasing wildlife and screaming on stages in hardcore bands you’ve never heard of. He has been published by Dead Reckoning Collective, The Havok Journal, Reptiles Magazine, Lethal Minds Journal, and many others. He filmed and directed a documentary called “Hammer Down” about his 2005 deployment in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom in with Alpha Battery 5-113^th of the NC Army National Guard. You can find his books, collected works, and social media accounts at www.stanlakecreates.com

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.