Far Beyond Their Years
By Guy Lounsbury

It’s a good time to be a veteran right now. In times of war, Americans look to their military members, both past and present, as the personification of America’s fighting spirit. The eagle again soars high. Uncle Sam, with his sleeves rolled up, fists clenched, back straight and a determined look in his eye lets loose the might of a nation and the sleeping giant is awakened.

We have a competitive nature and are fiercely proud. When we’ve been bloodied, we come back fighting. The bonds between us that are invisible during peace become obviously apparent in times of war. It’s good that we have this reaction, the men and women who are asked to do so much need to know that they have the public’s support.

They are so very young, the bulk of our forces, but they do phenomenal deeds. I’ve been in the military for 19 years now. There are airmen in my squadron who weren’t even born when I first raised my right arm. I don’t feel that old but they look so young that I must be. They are young servicemen that follow a tradition dating back to the beginnings of our country.

Most of the young troops coming in the service are good kids. Occasionally some bad ones slip through but they don’t last too long. The ones that I served with at Ground Zero were exemplary. It was an emotionally devastating duty with long hours and not much rest. They did exactly what was expected of them under extremely trying circumstances. They impressed me much more than I have the ability to describe. They have a sense of duty and honor far beyond their years.

Everyone that wears the uniform knows of the sacrifices made by similar people before them. Everyone also knows that they too might be called upon to do the same. They are young people, many not yet old enough to order a beer, but ready to fight and die if necessary to protect the American ideal. It is a serious responsibility to rest upon such young shoulders. It is one they bear unflinchingly. We are blessed that our progeny have such dedication.

We send these young people all over the globe. They are sent to places with strange sounding names and different ways of life far from home, and they go. Doing what they must, they guard America’s interests, and if necessary engage in a terrible task. In the military there is a saying, "Peace is our profession, but war is our business." We equip and train them to the best of our ability but in the end, it is their sense of duty that we rely on most of all for the protection of our nation.

Why are wars fought with the young? We send those off to fight and die that have the most life left to live. Young adults, who should be learning the joys and sorrows of life, are instead taught to kill and survive in the worst possible places. It seems that it’s always been this way. It surely doesn’t reflect well upon us as a species. I suppose that only the young, with their sense of immortality, the very inconceivableness of their own death, can survive combat, the harshest of environments.

I grew up watching the Vietnam War on Television. I can remember as a boy thinking that countries were always at war, that it was a normal course of a nation. When we finished one war, we would naturally move on to the next one, and so on indefinitely. I don’t think that I was able to understand or to differentiate between the actors dying fake deaths in movies playing war and the young men in the jungles, bleeding out their life’s blood on national television in real war. I couldn’t imagine that at the end of the broadcast, just as at the end of a movie, all dead and wounded didn’t arise, whole and unharmed, as if in Valhalla, and renew the fight again the next day.

They were young men and women asked to do the inconceivable in the worst possible circumstances. Only in their case many returned to a greeting of scorn and insult. The war itself, whether right or wrong, does not excuse that greeting. It is the shame of our nation. Never again should that be allowed to happen. The men and women that fight a war don’t set policy, they carry out orders. I imagine that there are many Viet Nam veterans still bitter about the way they were treated. They have every right to be. We could say we are sorry a thousand times to them and it would not be enough.

I recently saw the movie "Black Hawk Down". While I don’t think anyone could say that they enjoyed the action portrayed in the film, it was none-the-less both fascinating and realistic. War is that way, fascinating from a distance or from the comfort of a theater seat. Many of the actors were young, late teens or early twenties, accurately portraying the real life men that took on those awesome responsibilities in that deadly game.

There is an officer in my unit that was in Somalia as a medic during Operation Restore Hope. He recently gave us a presentation of what happened, not just on that one-day in October 1993, but for the entire three months he was there. He spoke of constant small arms fire and of nightly mortar attacks and the terror that accompanies them. He spoke of disease and famine and of horrific wounds to both military and civilian personnel. He told us of a nation that had become so inured to death that life itself had become completely meaningless. And he told us what he saw on that awful day in Mogadishu, when the helicopters flew in medics to treat the wounded Rangers besieged in the city. No one should have the memories that he lives with, I wouldn’t want his dreams. He isn’t old now. I am guessing that he was only in his very early 20’s back then.

At the end of his talk, we all stood up and clapped. He looked startled at this spontaneous recognition for what he had done. I don’t think that he sees himself as anything special, just an ordinary serviceman that did his duty, what he’d been trained to do, one amongst thousands. I wonder if all combat veterans feel the same. If they do, they are mistaken. They are heroes, brave beyond words.

We stood and applauded. I think our applause was for all the veterans that must live with the gruesome recollections of combat. For all those veterans that have the innocence of youth ripped from their souls with only cold harsh realities and nightmarish memories to fill the void left behind. For all the veterans who listened, as close comrades’ screams of agony became the silence of death, their tears mingling with blood. For all veterans that wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, remembering the names of those fallen who gave everything that there is to give. But maybe most of all, we stood and clapped for every quiet, humble young hero that dons the uniform of our country and offers to trade the golden promises of life so that America may continue to endure.