This is the third post I’ve written on Veteran’s Day. I plan to do this every year from now on; even after I stop blogging (if I ever do).
I want to do this because I have reconnected in these years with three things I’m not sure I knew enough about or valued enough beforehand.
# My love for this country and its polyglot people.
# My affection for the quotidian, undramatic, unRomantic events that make up most of our lives.
# My incredible debt to and respect for the members of our military, the average men and women who put on uniforms and defend both our country and our undramatic daily lives with far above-average courage, commitment, and skill.
So it started in 2002 when I wrote something about Veteran’s Day over at Armed Liberal. Here’s what I wrote in ‘I Started To Write About Veteran’s Day…‘
…and to thank the veterans alive and dead for protecting me and mine.
And worried that what I wrote kept coming out sounding either too qualified or would be interpreted as being too nationalistic.
And I realized something about my own thinking, a basic principle I’ll set out as a guiding point for the Democrats and the Left in general as they try and figure out the next act in this drama we are in.
First, you have to love America.
This isn’t a perfect country. I think it’s the best county; I’ve debated this with commenters before, and I’ll point out that while people worldwide tend to vote with their feet, there may be other (economic) attractions that pull them. But there are virtues here which far outweigh any sins. And I’ll start with the virtue of hope.
The hope of the immigrants, abandoning their farms and security for a new place here.
The hope of the settlers, walking across Death Valley, burying their dead as they went.
The hope of the “folks” who moved to California after the war.
The hope of the two Latino kids doing their Computer Science homework at Starbucks’.
I love this country, my country, my people. And those who attack her…from guerilla cells, boardrooms, or their comfy chairs in expensive restaurants…better watch out.
I don’t get a clear sense that my fellow liberals feel the same way. And if so, why should “the folks” follow them? Why are we worthy of the support of a nation that we don’t support?
So let me suggest an axiom for the New Model Democrats:
America is a great goddamn country, and we’re both going to defend it from those who attack it and fight to make it better.
And for everyone who is going to comment and remind me that ‘all liberals already do that’…no they don’t. Not when the Chancellor has to intervene at U.C. Berkeley to get “permission” for American flags to be flown and red-white-and-blue ribbons to be worn. Not when the strongest voices in liberalism give lip service to responding to an attack on our citizens on our soil.
Loving this country isn’t the same thing as jingoism; it isn’t the same thing as imperialism; it isn’t the same thing as blind support of the worst traits of our government or our people.
It starts with recognizing the best traits, and there are a hell of a lot of them.
They were worth defending in my father’s time, and they are worth defending today.
So thanks, veterans. Thanks soldiers and sailors and marines and airmen. Thanks for doing your jobs and I hope you all come home hale and whole, every one of you.
It’s been two years since I wrote that and to me, it rings as true as ever.
Last year, I discussed why I felt that being progressive did not contradict being patriotic, and why even the most ardent American leftist could – and should – embrace American exceptionalism.
They should first because it’s true. And second because it offers a route to reconnect with the nonprogressives out there who believe that the Left only sees America as exceptional in its flaws.
This year, in a year of war, I want to talk specifically about the military.
This week, U.S. troops are engaged in a major battle in Iraq, and continue to fight in Afghanistan, and this year, I have been in contact with the military through my involvement with Spirit of America. And because I have dealt with them, my attitude has once again gone through an immense change.
I have personally seen the best face of the American military. Because Spirit of America is aimed at providing assistance to rebuild Iraq, the discussions I had and have heard about centered around what could be done to make the lives of the people in Iraq better.
And I came to realize that these men and women – who had trained for a substantial part of their life to learning do unspeakable violence – had the energy and breadth of intelligence to also focus intently on doing good. And that they wanted more than anything to do good, and in so doing keep at bay the need to do violence.
And I realized two things.
1. First, that these men and women are just like me, except better.
I didn’t always believe that. I grew up during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, when any discussion about the military was a discussion about Vietnam.
And the image of the military in Vietnam was inevitably centered around My Lai, a small village where on one horrible day a platoon of American soldiers turned an ugly war into massacre.
As a student and a leader of the antiwar movement, I studied every detail of the massacre, planning to deepen my own understanding of the evil that was being done by our men in uniform on my behalf, and so the evil that I was trying to distance myself from.
And as I studied the events of that day, a small story – one that was relatively poorly reported then and even now – came to my attention and changed me.
Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson was flying a scout helicopter, leading a flight of three in advance of the AmeriCal’s advance into My Lai. He watched from the air as American soldiers descended into bloodlust and murder.
Some of you may not know his story, and you should:
On that historic morning, Thompson set his helicopter down near the irrigation ditch full of bodies. He asked a sergeant if the soldiers could help the civilians, some of whom were still moving. The sergeant suggested putting them out of their misery. Stunned, Thompson turned to Lieutenant Calley, who told him to mind his own business. Thompson reluctantly got back in his helicopter and began to lift off. Just then Andreotta yelled, “My God, they’re firing into the ditch!”
Thompson finally faced the truth. He and his crew flew around for a few minutes, outraged, wondering what to do. Then they saw several elderly adults and children running for a shelter, chased by Americans. “We thought they had about 30 seconds before they’d die,” recalls Colburn. Thompson landed his chopper between the troops and the shelter, then jumped out and confronted the lieutenant in charge of the chase. He asked for assistance in escorting the civilians out of the bunker; the lieutenant said he’d get them out with a hand grenade. Furious, Thompson announced he was taking the civilians out. He went back to Colburn and Andreotta and told them if the Americans fired, to shoot them. “Glenn and I were staring at each other, dumbfounded,” says Colburn. He says he never pointed his gun at an American soldier, but he might have fired if they had first. The ground soldiers waited and watched.
Thompson coaxed the Vietnamese out of the shelter with hand gestures. They followed, wary. Thompson looked at his three-man helicopter and realized he had nowhere to put them. “There was no thinking about it,” he says now. “It was just something that had to be done, and it had to be done fast.” He got on the radio and begged the gunships to land and fly the four adults and five children to safety, which they did within minutes.
He put himself and his men between American troops and the villagers they obviously intended to murder. He threatened American troops with his own crew’s weapons, and arranged for the other helicopters in his flight to evacuate a group of villagers, and then for his own crewman to rescue an uninjured small child from a pile of bodies.
When he returned to base, he reported the massacre; his reports were covered up.
On the worst day in modern history for the U.S. military, a few soldiers covered themselves with honor.
And my own attitude went through an immense change.
2. I realized that the military was not a machine, separate from me and against which I could struggle. I realized that it was a group of individuals who are an expression of our society – of our worst and our best.
I like to believe that had my personal history been different, I would have been Hugh Thompson, not William Calley. I know that both of them are part of my history and yours as well.
I believed for a little while that Calley represented the truth of the military, and I was an ass for believing that. When I read the rants of the anti-imperialist Left, the fevered imaginations of those who see the military as I once did, as an all-devouring machine that ate the souls of those who were part of it.
It’s not.
I’ve sat in meetings with officers who today are in Fallouja. I’ve worked side by side with some of the nineteen and twenty-year olds they are leading.
Their souls are fine, thank you very much. I’ve looked in their eyes, and I know it.
The soldiers are optimistic, committed, smart people. They have chosen a hard path for themselves, and like everyone who walks a difficult path, they are better human beings for it. They see obstacles as challenges and challenges as what they are on earth to overcome.
They are human and war is horrible. Bad things will happen, some that will be our fault. It has always been so.
But they are our soldiers, and they choose to stand between us and people who would murder us in our sleep. The wrong they do is ours, and the honor their own.
For myself, I owe an apology to all of them for doubting them, and here it is:
bq.. I’m sorry. I’m deeply, truly sorry for myself and for my peers and what we felt and some feel about the men and women who wear the uniform of our country.
And for my fellows who look at them as soulless thugs, you owe them an apology too, and all of us owe them our gratitude.
We may disagree with our national policies, but this isn’t Policy Day.
This is the day that we honor the men and women who put their lives on the line to defend us and carry out those policies, and in so doing express something that is really one of the highest moral values of all. They risk their lives for all of us, for the folks at home, the flag and their fellows.
p. So thanks, veterans. Thanks soldiers and sailors and marines and airmen. Thanks for doing your jobs and I hope you all come home hale and whole, every one of you. If you find me, I’ll gladly shake your hand in gratitude. If you can’t find me, just look to the right or left of you, because someone else gladly will.
Today and tomorrow are the days to remind people about Soldier’s Angels. Take what you were going to spend on lunch these days, and give it to them instead.