To Survive War.... (Recovery Part 1)

Sure. I wouldn't have the slightest idea what it is like to actually experience a war. And for me to assume anything of such situations would probably be a direct insult to those who have. Thus, for all the assumptions I make regarding war, I apologize in advance to anyone who knows more about the subject from a firsthand experience.

Still, I'm betting John J. is largely right. To survive war, you probably do have to become war. However, in this instance, the war we're discussing is not one of international conflict based in political posturing. It's the war of the life. The war that follows you in the shadows for decades, setting up a home in your heart the instant you've forgotten about it. Springing to odious life the very second you find yourself comfortable and feel safe.

It didn't pick me because I like to fight. In point of fact, I don't know why it picked me. And if I am to become this war, there's only one way it can end. Of course, the second that happens, yes, all personal suffering ends (and the suffering of others begins), but any opportunity to make sense of it and prepare others for it is gone forever. But like it or not, I have to fight. Because there's no other choice right now.

I have made significant strides in intelligence as I wrestle against this enemy decade after decade. And when the troops are well supplied and technology is up to date, we have a distinct advantage. We win almost all battles. But. Not so easy to survive. Still war here.

In our success, we often forget that simple truth. So when that line does break again, when the enemy charges (with suicide bombers, obviously), and the perimeter of Khe Sanh falls, that January 21 once more adds itself to history's list of painful scars. They sprint in, committed to pack frenzy. Desperate and dedicated. You either stand your ground as a whole or get wiped out as a whole. One second we're roasting a hog on a spit for a celebration of a new year; the next, the fireworks have turned to gunfire and our friends are falling all around us. It happens like lightning on a clear night.

That line has broken many times over the years - too many, in fact, to warrant listing them here. And yes, we've ultimately thus far survived. We have done so by fleeing and by hiding, and eventually we either return with strength in numbers, or we rebuild in a new location. We're the .01% of bacteria that the cleaning solution can't quite reach, and over time we multiply again and set our sights on a new sunrise.

But that day is not today. Today we signal the retreat. Today we run for our lives. We abandon everything, including the relics that brought us a miraculous victory the last time, the treasures we saved to remind ourselves that all hope is never truly lost. We watch from the hilltop as flames tower over them, and throughout the rest of the refuge. Black smoke fills the sky above the place our beds once comforted us. A great bonfire fills the air, and the cheers and chants of the perversely victorious sing like scalding profanity in our ears. Today we have lost.

So we sigh. We have been here before. Alone once again facing the wall of darkness. A pledge from the depth of our hearts pushes us to stay alive, as long as we can, by any means necessary. We set out into the jungle and start again, step by step, seeking shelter and nourishment and the means to forgive ourselves for failure, carrying a knapsack of pain, unable to erase the memories of our loved ones being torn apart as a result of our own recklessness and oversight.

Such beautiful, terrible things we experience in this war. No one tells you as you get older that you will not be able to un-see the things you've seen. No one holds your hand and explains just how much it's going to hurt, or how alone you're going to be, or why you even have to do it in the first place. All you're given is a pack and a kit, and then you're turned loose in the stunning wilderness to fend for yourself against unimaginable horrors. 

Yes. Today is the death knell of a once glorious base. But the intelligence community is still running somewhere out there, and whether we see it or not, tomorrow will begin the same as every other day. With a new sunrise.

The orders say, "Keep moving, soldier. Just keep moving." And so we shall. For as long as we can. 

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A solid piece of writing with a deeper meaning reflected in its tone. It seems to numb one's thoughts to the ideas of war, as if to make it monotonous in its deathly daily struggle. The protagonist used to the horror stating his tale as a matter of fact. Almost devoid of emotion. He reflects on lost brotherhood in fallen comrades but is numb to the fact it is a repeatable cycle. My uncle who served in Vietnam often conveyed the war in similar fashion. As if a huge part of him died in that war, because in reality it did. A glassy eyed stare often accompanied his telling of some of the most inhumane atrocities he witnessed. It left me with the profound feeling I was merely speaking to his ghost, for the man had died those so many years back in that jungle. Solid work and storytelling in your words. Thank you for sharing your art.