by John Norwood
Retired USAF CM Sgt.
Aircraft Flight Engineer
A man of eighteen years, barely dry behind the ears, hears Uncle Sam’s call. In eight short weeks, the change is as radical as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly -- only this change has no beauty to it. The young boy is transformed into a soldier, an instrument of war.
The days of taking his girl to lover’s leap and skipping class to go fishing are all gone. He is thrust into a world of violence against his fellow man. He begins to see the ravages of war. He learns to kill, not for sport or food, but for territory and ideals. He learns these skills with dedication and without question, because he is doing what he is ordered to do.
Suddenly he is thrust into a world of pain, death, blood and pure fear. He sees things that no amount of education, or training, prepared him for.
A man of eighteen years, barely dry behind the ears, hears Uncle Sam’s call. In eight short weeks, the change is as radical as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly -- only this change has no beauty to it. The young boy is transformed into a soldier, an instrument of war.
The days of taking his girl to lover’s leap and skipping class to go fishing are all gone. He is thrust into a world of violence against his fellow man. He begins to see the ravages of war. He learns to kill, not for sport or food, but for territory and ideals. He learns these skills with dedication and without question, because he is doing what he is ordered to do.
Suddenly he is thrust into a world of pain, death, blood and pure fear. He sees things that no amount of education, or training, prepared him for.
His friends are now few and close, yet distant, because getting too close will cause pain when that friend is no longer there. The cold, damp, heat, and loneliness become his constant companion. At times he tries to deaden the pain with booze. He fights with himself, trying to bury what he sees. He does his job without emotion, knowing if he feels, he’ll go nuts.
Then suddenly it’s all over. He sheds his uniform and finds himself back on Main Street USA. When he sees his old schoolmates, he finds he no longer has anything in common with them. He cannot talk about his experiences because they won’t understand. His youth was robbed from him and he no longer trusts those around him with the ease he once did.
He has wounds you cannot see; not wounds of the body, but wounds of the soul, mind and spirit. No one can see them. No one can see the scars.
Then suddenly it’s all over. He sheds his uniform and finds himself back on Main Street USA. When he sees his old schoolmates, he finds he no longer has anything in common with them. He cannot talk about his experiences because they won’t understand. His youth was robbed from him and he no longer trusts those around him with the ease he once did.
He has wounds you cannot see; not wounds of the body, but wounds of the soul, mind and spirit. No one can see them. No one can see the scars.
He drifts back to a time when he felt the pain for real. He seeks out answers he cannot find. At times he feels out of control and tries to find anything he believes will give him control, like booze and drugs, or he buries himself in work to the point of exhaustion.
He withdraws from relationships for fear of loss. He rejects authority for authority brought him harm in the past. He feels alone in a world that doesn’t seem to care. He hurts, but no one can see the wounds; no one hears his cries for help. He is judged by what others can only see on the surface.
He withdraws from relationships for fear of loss. He rejects authority for authority brought him harm in the past. He feels alone in a world that doesn’t seem to care. He hurts, but no one can see the wounds; no one hears his cries for help. He is judged by what others can only see on the surface.
I hear you, Brother...and I share the inside, hollow hurt.
ReplyDelete50 years ago feels like yesterday...and last week is forgotten.