Showing posts with label Military. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Military. Show all posts

24 July 2011

Psychology of the Soldier

The psychology of the soldier is one that can be difficult for civilians to come to terms with. No, this has nothing at all to do with photography, cameras, models, or anything remotely related. You can stop reading now if you wish, but I came across an interesting article the other day and have gone back to read it several times.

Model, Joanie

"82nd Airborne Paratroopers Unhappy With Iraq, Afghanistan Troop Withdrawals",
by David Wood for the Huffington Post on 11July2011

Model, Joanie
So what's the gist of the article? Simply put, many of the soldiers don't want to leave for one reason or another.  "Instead of an exciting and challenging combat tour, they'll be relegated to the dread "garrison life" here at Fort Bragg.", reports the article. That may sound like war-mongering to many of the citizens of the United States, however I might ask that you hold that judgement for a little bit and take a second (or longer) to see where these "Joes" (...as in G.I.'s, hence G. I. Joe...) are coming from. 

The 82nd from Fort Bragg, North Carolina is one of the most famous and storied units to honor, serve, and defend your way of life here in the United States of America. Along with the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, they comprise the two Army Divisions most known to the populace if you were to ask them to name ANY military unit. (Yeah, Seal Team Six gets some notoriety too). I served 2 tours of duty with the 101st...first with the 502nd Infantry Brigade, and then again after a stint in Korea with HHC Division G-3 as an Air Operations NCO...loved that job! I received my honorable discharge in 1998, after 10 years of service. I was done. My body had taken enough abuse and I wanted to still enjoy some physical abilities as a young civilian. I can tell you quite literally that from head to toe, I still contend with injuries sustained over my tours of duty. 

"I'm afraid I'm not going to get the chance to go again," said Spec. Brenton Parish, a 21-year-old paratrooper from Fond du Lac, Wis. "I like doing my job, and I can only do that when I'm deployed," he told The Huffington Post.

Model, Joanie
So why would a man or woman want to maintain operations in a hostile environment? Let me put it to you this way: Your Armed Forces Command units take pride in turning that snot-nosed brat you worried would never amount to anything, into a highly trained, high speed, low drag, bad-ass, machine that can maintain his or her military discipline and professional bearing in the most inhospitable, uninhabitable work environments  like nobody you'll ever encounter at the office. Imagine if you were expected to get out those expense reports or make your quota, while doing so in the desert heat with sand grains in every crevice imaginable, wearing long sleeves and weighted gear. An error on your part might cost a life. Your former snot-nosed brat is now responsible for million-dollar equipment and is depended on to do his job and keep the well-oiled machine from seizing up. Only a few years ago, they could hardly get along with others that well. They couldn't figure out how geometry would ever serve them in life. Now they are part of  an intricate team on a mission to hell and back, calculating back-azimuths and learning to triangulate their 8-digit grid coordinate on a map. No matter if they are on the front lines or in the mail room, they understand that they may never draw breath on American soil again, yet they do their jobs and watch out for the soldier, marine, seaman, or airman who stands in the gap next to them.  

Capt. Tom Cieslak, a staff officer with the 1st Brigade: "If we're going back to garrison life, to pressed and starched uniforms and all that? After my seven years of war, I don't think I could do that."
Model, Joanie
As a civilian, you really cannot fathom what it is that you ask your servicemen and women to do. With that said, it will probably be difficult to understand the mentality that they have to assume in order to complete a mission, do their jobs dependably, admirably, and above and beyond the standard. You are in effect, asking a man or woman to become a machine and you loose them upon the world to protect you and your way of life. To ask them to come home and shut it off is to ask water to not be wet. The expectation for these service people to adjust seamlessly to the life that is your reality is not realistic. This is what they do. This is what they had to become in order to go forth and protect you. You can honor their return by being understanding to the military mind and aiding in the transition rather than ridiculing and judging like what happened when our veterans came back from Vietnam.

In a major study released last year, the Army reported that a small but growing number of soldiers who perform credibly in combat turn to high-risk behavior at home, including drug abuse, drunk driving, motorcycle street-racing, petty crime and domestic violence.

This is the part I fear most. After spending years at a time, "keyed-up", these guy come back to garrison life know they need to "gear down" but can't. Alcohol and drug abuse is common. Something to take the edge off becomes a new priority and this is where you see men getting into trouble with the law, having a disastrous family life, and go further sink into depression. I first became conscious of such matters when I began hearing about Bragg soldiers killing their families (and its still going on). And then it started happening at my Division at Campbell. It was almost like an extreme case of some type of disease or disorder where a plague hits your community. Everybody gets sick and some are killed. You never know who is most susceptible, but no one is untouched. God help our veterans.

05 February 2011

The King's Speech

Peanuts 1951 Comic Strip 16
"Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop." 
- Ansel Adams

Rhonda
Every now and again, it is a refreshing thing to sit and watch a good story-telling absent the mindless violence, sordid sex, and profane-laden vocabulary. Well, two out of three ain't bad. Such was the case when I got to watch "The King's Speech" earlier this week. I didn't know how well I'd receive the tale, but every now and then a recommendation for its worth found its way to me. The latest came from a elderly couple that I met while ordering a bagel and coffee in a Dunkin Donuts. The man was a retired baker. I do not know if his Mrs held a profession in her time, but she was very high on this movie and made the fact known.

As I said, I did not know what to expect from this showing, but it honestly spoke to my heart in that it revolved around my own mother's profession. I called her up to admit my amazement at the ability of someone to make an Oscar-worthy movie about Speech Therapy. Mama worked as a speech therapist early in her career, but it evolved into teaching children with learning disabilities and capped her career as director of the Headstart program where I grew up. Many people fail to ascertain the area of my upbringing and are surprised when I tell them I hail from Texas. I've been told I don't sound Texas and on several occasion, that I don't even sound Black. Most of that talk is from grounds of ignorance, as they don't truly mean that I don't sound Black as much as they really mean, I don't sound uneducated. The fact of the matter is that growing up as the eldest child of a speech therapist will most times leave you absent of any tell-tale accent of your homage. Oh, I'll grant you that over the years, I've picked up a little tone and inflection in my voice. I don't speak quietly. Ten years in the Army barking orders to infantry ground pounders will do that for you.



I loved my time served though. My hand surgery has left me thinking back to those days quite often now and the memories seem much more clearer and vivid. I made a special effort to try to let go, sell off much of my gear, and let my Army days be behind me. They've come flooding back and I tell you I am in awe at some of the things my friends and I had to endure. I was having lunch with Felix today talking to him of this matter. I miss blowing things up. I miss holding a rapid fire weapon in my hands and watching tracer rounds streak through the air at a rate of 1 every fifth round because otherwise you heat up the barrel too much. (I've had to crack heads catching one of my joes linking a belt of all tracers.) I miss sitting back to back with my RTO in the middle of an LP/OP while the men in the perimeter try to stay awake in their two-man positions with dummy cords strung back to me from each of them. The North Koreans pump Korean opera through loud-speakers stories tall and almost a click away to lull you to sleep as well as mask the sound of their own movements. I do miss it.

Peace from a position of strength. It is this dichotomy that tug at me for the moment. I miss the weaponry of my days in the Army, yet I can appreciate a good movie absent all of it. And it ended with one of my favorites - Beethoven's Symphony No. 7, 2nd Movement (A Major Op 92. Allegretto)