NPR’s story about the memoir of a psychologist (who, incidentally, contracted PTSD by treating soldiers with PTSD) contained story about a 19 year old man who had received 3 purple hearts in a month. His psychologist remembers telling him that there was nothing “normal” about it and that his shock regarding it was fully justified.
Three purple hearts in a month. The criteria for being “awarded” a purple heart are such that one can almost be assured of receiving one after being stationed in one of the the two major theaters of the wars in which our country is currently engaged (remember that first war…?). This should not be construed as a statement indicating that a purple heart has no (or a lessened) meaning. On the contrary, it should be construed as an indictment of the wars themselves.
I will not call this soldier a boy, because I remember being 19 and would have been insulted at the insinuation that I was not an adult. I will not call this soldier a boy, because he has seen & participated in actions no child ever should. I will not call this soldier a boy, because he is now a (thrice) decorated officer of my country’s military. But upon the realization of his position, this soldier cried, as well he should for all that he has seen, has done, has experienced, and for all that has been asked or commanded of him. And my heart cries for the boy he might be if he were no soldier, uninjured, undecorated, and undestroyed by the war he is fighting for me.
I will not call him a boy and I will not call for additional restrictions on the age at which a young person can become a soldier. As I said, when I was 19, I would have bristled at the idea that I was not an adult, could not make my own decisions. But the fact that I cannot call him a boy and yet weep for him as I would a child soldier drives home the injustice of the war itself. I do not know what he has or done that he will never be able to forget. I do not know what his three qualifying injuries were (not to mention the injury which does not qualify). But I know that they were unnecessary.
Maybe I’ve hung out around peaceniks like John too much, but the stories of people like this solider remind me that nothing is worth this. There can be nothing that necessitates it.
Yesterday, I was listening to a different NPR story, about whether “waterboarding” counts as torture according to a particular person (who he is doesn’t really matter). I mused aloud to my husband that bickering about whether a particular form of unpleasantness counts as “torture” only makes us look stupid (it reminds me of China’s petulant “you have to ask us first!” statement about reincarnation) and juvenile. Have we really matured no further than the playground (my experience, unfortunately, tells me “yes”)? Really, we should just admit that we’re okay with torture (which we clearly are) or agree to abide by the conventions of civilized (*cough*Europe!*cough*) society and state that unpleasantness that we would not permit our own person/children/soldiers to undergo will not be performed by us. I’d almost hope for the former because it’s simply more honest. Then we can have the debate which starts “here are the pros and cons of torture” and can proceed logically from there. Defining a word whose definition could be obtained from a 3rd grader (whether it be “is” or “torture”) is not rhetoric, it is idiocy.
