War Makers? Or, Fugitives From a Glory?

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I was drafted into the US Army in 1968. I went to Fort Knox for Basic Training, and I was removed from Radio School at the request of a Chaplain to be his Assistant, officially a "Clerk Typist," and we called ourselves "Chairborne."

I was indoctrinated in the fact that they were making me into a SOLDIER. I quickly became resigned to this because to resist it, even mentally, would result in blunders that ended in KP peeling potatoes. We were prepared for the fact that we were killers only for the salvation of Democracy and, "If we don't stop them over there, they will come here."

I did not mentally buy that logic, but I went along with the rhetoric to stay out of trouble. I knew very well that the Vietnamese would never come across the Pacific Ocean and storm the beaches of Malibu, California. But, I went through all the motions, managed to be officially declared a soldier, and ended up behind a desk pushing paper. Actually, not much of that really. Being a Chaplain's Assistant is one of the easiest jobs in the US Army, and I had the fun of  being part of a godly Chaplain's zeal to teach the Word of God and help soldiers who were troubled.

On my first pass to leave the fort during Basic Training, my wife had driven down from Michigan, and we had a great week end together. The First Sergeant had told us that we could wear civilian clothes, but if we wore our uniforms we HAD TO wear our Class A uniform. We had three uniforms-- Our Class A formal uniform, our khaki uniform, which was a more casual but dignified choice, and our "fatigues," a drab puke green baggy mess of clothes for regular duty only worn on the fort.

I skipped the civilian clothes choice for my pass week end, and I wore the Class A uniform everywhere. It made things easier, though it was not quite as comfortable, and if I met an officer, I had to salute him instead of ignore him.

We decided to have a really nice Sunday noon meal together, and we found a high end restaurant in Elizabeth Town, Kentucky. We ordered one of the most expensive meals, we prayed, and we had a long leisurely time eating. Upon entering the dining room, I noticed an older man over near a window, and I paid no attention to him. At the end of the meal, I asked for the bill, and the waitress informed me, "Your meal has been paid for."

I was flabbergasted. Who in that town would even know me, and why would someone do that? I asked the waitress if she knew who paid it and why. She said, "Did you see to older gentleman over by the window-- he eats here often, and he also often pays for the meal of a soldier who is with his wife and wearing his Class A uniform. He always asks to remain anonymous."

If I had been in my civilian clothes, that would not have happened. The old soldier was no fool. He could see the one stripe on my shoulder and knew I was a lowly private and in training. He knew very well that I could have chosen to wear my civilian clothes. He was not only a kind hearted man-- he was proud of me. The feeling was priceless-- a tribute from a man who have "served his time," and he loved the honor, and had found a way to reward those who were willing to look all soldier.

Today, it has all changed.

The soldier who leaves the military fort on pass or off duty goes out in his "BDUs". These are camouflaged baggy sloppy clothes that are impossible to look good in. They do not inspire pride in Americans. At best, they inspire nothing, and at worst they inspire fear. This is a killer, a "War Maker," on the prowl. This soldier walking into WalMart looks like he is going to war. This is by design. The Army asks soldiers to wear their "BDUs" off the fort in order to give civilians some shock and awe. They are making a statement-- "a war maker is coming at you."

You see, the US soldier today is INTENTIONALLY taught that he is a "War Maker" from the day he is first inducted into the Army. He is not a liberator. He is not stopping anyone from coming here. He is not even expected to win a war-- just kill on command.

Since our disaster in Korea, Vietnam, and Somalia, the Military has stopped talking about victory. At best, we now "pacify" nasty people. Usually, we try to escape from the war we made without Americans and the world realizing we accomplished nothing except to beef up our economy by perpetuating our war making materials.

So, an American soldier is a freak. We try to be patriotic and wave the flag on patriotic days, but when we have to look at one of these War Makers, we do not have the feeling a soldier historically made in past history.

Otto Von Bismarck, King of Prussia and later the united Prussian and German nation, cultivated such honor in his soldiers that they never were seen on "leave" in their home town out of uniform, and this almost always prevailed all their lives after they had been discharged from the military. The Prussian people held NO ONE in higher esteem than a Prussian soldier.

The British Army was the same before they trashed their historic military image. 

In some swampy sweaty sink hole of a colony on the backside of nowhere, the British soldiers and officials always ended the day by changing into their dress uniforms. In India, some of them would wear a formal traveling uniform to a social event, and then at the hosts home they would change into a formal evening uniform. All in the sauna heat of central India. When a British official or soldier in Kenya or Tanzania, where I grew up, showed up in the bush at our mission station, they were spotless in their whites. I have no idea how they managed that, but it was simply the honorable thing to do.

So, when I see a pile of floppy camo yardage flopping into WalMart, I have a VERY hard time to have a good feeling about the person inside the uniform. I feel guilty for this, but I cannot help it.

When I was kid growing up in Africa, I learned that you got faster and better service in a shop, restaurant, or a government office if you wore a tie and top coat. It never has bothered me to put on a tie. If it greases the wheels of daily survival, I am happy to get one up on you slugs who show up in a T-shirt, with some tasteless message on it, and your cap on backwards.

I believe that the whole US Military has become a  colorless sloppy background for the egos of handful of Generals who seem to be the only ones who look like soldiers. This tells me how the US Military also thinks about themselves. If they feel comfortable looking like blobs on a gray canvas, their souls have to be just the same.

The morbid reality is this-- without the US Military out there killing for cash, the whole US economy would come crashing down. Military hardware is our most valuable natural resource.


Ecclesiastes 3:1 (KJV) To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

America is a nation at perpetual war. We do NOT believe there should EVER again be a time of peace.

Before we vacate one field of blood, we declare a new one so that the booming economy stimulator of war can go on non-stop. None of our political leaders, regardless of their rhetoric before they enter office, will buck this ongoing picture because, to do so would destroy the nation.

Thirteen trillion dollars in debt, and you mark it down my friend, we will find a new war zone very soon in order to keep men out of the job market, and to beef up commerce. I believe that God will have had enough of this very soon, and the USA will rapidly become another Greece or Italy.

You who have not lived long enough to know there is another way to live probably hate me by now. Go put on a coat and tie, and come see me. I might talk to you about it. Oh, and replace that filthy baseball cap with a Stetson please.

I am very interested in comments to this posting by old soldiers.

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