Only the Dead Have Seen the End of War

Ghosts Forever

Only the dead have seen the end of war. This quote, attributed to the ancient Greek philosopher Plato, has had tremendous meaning for me over the years. As I have pondered it this week, I’ve realized how its meaning has also shifted over time. It’s bizarre how the same short sentence, the same words, can have such different meaning with the passage of time depending on the context, or even on the epochs of one’s life.

I think of a short sentence I tell my wife often, “I love you.” I’ve loved her for a long time. I’ve said, “I love you” for a long time. But as our life together has twisted and turned, how it’s brought sadness and happiness, joy and sorrow, dreams fulfilled and dreams destroyed. How it’s been through war and brought war home. How it’s in a new war now. That simple sentence means so much more today. “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord.”

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” War. Such a small word yet one of the most consequential when carried out. Wars, throughout history, have almost always first started with words. Death and life are in the power of the tongue indeed. The ramifications of war are seemingly rarely thought of. Instead, it is hubris filled “leaders” who wage war whimsically because they aren’t going to go fight in it. Their children aren’t going to go fight in it. They are likely going to increase their own gain from it. Eons ago it was gain of territory, notoriety, plunder, slaves, all of the above. Today it is stock options, jobs after leaving “government service,” and waving Ukrainian flags in the House chamber. “Leaders” often have nothing but contempt for us peasants. Especially for those soldier peasants. The cannon fodder. The infantry. It’s like a movie to them.

A movie. It’s funny in the ironic sort of way how a movie played an important role for me when deciding to enlist as an infantryman. How silly right? A movie. The movie is Blackhawk Down which was adapted from the Mark Bowden book of the same name. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve watched that movie. It is still one of my favorites, and still one of the best war movies out there. Although I didn’t know it when I was a teenager and watching it for the first time(s), I would eventually learn that it also does a better job than most at relaying what it’s like to be in combat situations…as if any movie can truly do that though. It’s also where I first learned of the Plato quote where this post’s title comes from.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. Even in that short clip so many memories and thoughts rush through my brain. What it was like when I was a kid watching that movie in the basement time and time again. What it was like watching it years after my own war time experience in Iraq and Afghanistan. The music even is masterfully done. Combined with the imagery there is a foreboding sense that much death is present and much death is yet to come. Such is war.

My first deployment was to Iraq. This post exists because of the men I served with during that time. Yes, the men. Although I was a mere kid myself, and most of us were in the eyes of the world considering our young ages, they were all men. The best men. The men who said, “Here am I. Send me.” When the vast majority of other “men” in their homeland wouldn’t.

They were men from all over the country. New Mexico. Arizona. Idaho. Oregon. New York. Ohio. Iowa. Illinois. North Carolina. Texas. Puerto Rico. Other places. They were men in the truest sense. They didn’t care what color anyone’s skin was. They didn’t care what religion another guy was. They didn’t care where anyone else was from. They cared about unity. That unity is what makes the warfighter; what makes the man. What makes the platoon. What makes the men. They were the best of men.

The above picture is from late spring/early summer 2007 (I think. It might have been 2008 shortly before we deployed in late summer). Our platoon was a little smaller than a regular infantry platoon. We were the battalion’s reconnaissance platoon. We had three squads that were similar to a normal infantry squad, but a few guys smaller. We also had the battalion’s main sniper element as essentially an additional squad.

This picture was taken at the end of what is very likely my favorite day of training from my time in the Army. Ever. As you probably can tell, I’m not in it. I think that is because I may have been the one who took it. We are standing in Alaska’s Chena River. It was still very cold. I think it may never warm up enough for people to swim in to be honest. But we did. Especially the best swimmers of us who were designated as “scout swimmers” for each boat crew. As my memory serves, we utilized three CRRC’s (Combat Rubber Raiding Craft), or something very similar for the day’s training and learned some basics of waterborne patrolling. It was awesome.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. The picture shows about half, maybe a little bit more than half of what our platoon was at full strength when we deployed. There are fifteen people in that picture. Four of them are dead. Only one of them was killed in action. Yet all of them died from war. Only the dead have seen the end of war.

They were the best of men. They weren’t perfect men. None of us are. They had flaws. They all had hopes. They all had family and other important people in their lives. They all had dreams. They all had goals. They all had difficulty. They all had war. If not actual war as in infantryman versus al-Qaeda or Taliban, the war of the mind. The war of coming home from the Army and trying to reassimilate. The war of trying to make a new life. The war of living in a fallen world. The war of succumbing to our own desires. The war of surpassing what you thought you ever would accomplish and trying to find new meaning.

I’ve talked to a number of the guys I served with in “Recon,” or as our callsign was, “Ghost,” this week. I’m still working on finding some of the others; as are a couple of the other guys I’ve been talking too. Some of us really have become like ghosts over the years. Myself included often times. A week ago only three of the guys in that picture above were dead. Now, there are four.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. The latest Ghost to see the end of war was a very positive person. He laughed a lot. He smiled a lot. He was always looking for a bright spot. He was sniper qualified. When he was finished with active duty, he became a police officer. He and I were in touch more years ago when I too was “on the job.” That job also can have a hefty toll. I know he saw and dealt with some extremely horrible cases. He eventually became a detective too and had to work some of those grim cases more intimately. He worked in a large, crime ridden city; as most major metropolitan areas seem to be these days. He took his own life.

I heard another combat veteran say, “Here's the deal; I think about guys that are committing suicide today or thinking about committing suicide and think about this, do you want to give that nasty enemy even one more victory? Fuck them. I am going to win because I am not going to let them defeat me.”

Ever since I heard that, it has always stuck with me. I don’t know for sure, but I’d wager that most guys struggle to some degree when they get home from war. I know I have before. Especially in the beginning. The first few years or so after ETSing (expiration term of service) from the Army. It certainly was a process.

We’re all different. We have different struggles, different beliefs, different wars we’ve fought or are fighting. And I mean everyone. Not just the guys I was in the Army with. Every person has difficulty in their life. I can’t possibly begin to imagine what takes someone so far to the brink that they decide they are going over it. I was crushed when I heard the news earlier this week. One of the guys that I keep in touch with better these days, who was actually in our sister platoon, the battalion mortar platoon, called me. I missed the call. Then 40 minutes later I got a call from someone in my platoon.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. I knew. Immediately I knew that someone was dead. It always goes this way. It’s happened four other times since we got back from Iraq in 2009. One of those times was a guy from the mortars. He was actually roommates for a time with the guy from my platoon who called me earlier this week. Our two platoons were very close. Recon and Mortars, Ghost and Havoc. We were all brothers. It was a great time of life. I didn’t realize it as much then. We were soldiers once, and young.

When we deployed to Iraq we first stopped in Kuwait for a week or so. When we landed we were loaded onto busses and driven to Ali Al Salem or Arifjan. I don’t quite remember which one. Either way, that drive was interesting for me. I was just staring out the window wondering what the next year would hold, and we weren’t even in Iraq yet. Another soldier, a guy from Appleton, Wisconsin, who was in the Havoc platoon, must’ve noticed the look on my face. He had been deployed before and lended some encouraging and calming words to me. One thing I found in the Army was that when you met someone who was from your same state, you immediately were friends. They were the best of men.

It may sound strange, but I look back fondly on these memories. There certainly is a dichotomy here too though. I do not recommend anyone going to war. I do not recommend our wretched “leaders” in Washington continue to fund endless wars to line their own pockets. I do not recommend anyone join any branch of the military. Yet, I am happy I did. It has shaped me into the person I am today. It perhaps was the most formative experience of my life. It is the thing I am most grateful for, aside from having four beautiful daughters. It is likely what the Lord has used to prepare me for the wars that were yet before me. Still, I do not recommend it. It has extracted too high a toll from me, and certainly from many of the best of men.

Beedee. Our beautiful, lovely dog.

I was at Home Depot yesterday. I wear a memorial bracelet on my wrist for the guy we served with who was killed in action. My three oldest daughters were with me. When we were checking out the cashier asked what my bracelet was. I responded, “it’s for my friend who was killed in Afghanistan.” She said, “I thought so! I just saw one like it last night.” I responded by saying, “I’m sorry to hear that.” She then said, “Oh, it was just in a movie.”

I asked her what movie and she told me it was a movie about a female soldier who had a dog that she was trying to bring home from Iraq but “they” wouldn’t let her. I’ve seen the trailer for this movie, and it looks pretty awful. But, it reminded me of the dog we had. Beedee. It really was the pet of one guy in our platoon as he really took care of her. She was a member of our platoon though. No doubt. Everyone loved that dog. I don’t remember how long we had her, but it was for a number of months.

One day, we went out on patrol for many hours. When we came back, Beedee was gone. We later learned that higher ranking people in our chain of command ordered that all the dogs be euthanized. So, they waited until we were out for a long time, sent someone to come to our living quarters, kidnap our dog, and kill her. This is just a small example, yet another reason, of how people in our government have no problem issuing orders “because I said so,” and how others have no problem just following orders. They tanked the platoons morale. Was it an illegal order? No. But whoever gave it likely would have no problem giving illegal ones either. It’s another reason I would never recommend anyone join the military. You will only be subjected to worse tyranny than you already are.

25th Infantry Division Recon Patch from the Vietnam War

Only the dead have seen the end of war. When I first saw Blackhawk Down it stirred something within me. I had such a desire to join the infantry. An inkling of that desire was already there. It was post-9/11 by the time I saw it. Knowing nothing about real war, I thought it was masterfully done. Being a fool, I thought it would be fulfilling to go to war. I thought I could prove myself. I thought I could do more. The famed Army Rangers and Delta Force are the units portrayed in the movie. I thought I could be like them. I wanted to be one of them. What a fool.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. That movie portrays Operation Gothic Serpent. Eighteen Americans died during that operation. Eighteen. Yet, foolish me was duped into thinking that is what I wanted. Part of me still does. I got a taste of it in the infantry. I’m grateful for it. It shaped me. I don’t recommend it. I think about it often. It’s taken friends. What a fool.

Only the dead have seen the end of war. I can’t speak for them, but I imagine that many of the men I served with in my six years have similar thoughts, experiences and reflections. Jarhead, another movie that I saw before I enlisted, was also impactful for me. Both these films, Blackhawk Down and Jarhead, are adapted from books. Jarhead is by Anthony Swofford who wrote the book as his firsthand account of his experiences. Looking back, and through the sand colored lens of experience I now have, the reason even the movies stand out is because they are adapted from chronicles of firsthand accounts. Are they perfect? No, of course not. But, they do a better job than most at conveying some of what soldiers (and marines) go through.

The reason I bring up Jarhead is because I cannot adequately explain what it is like when you go to war. When you come home from war. When you leave soldiering behind. When you face new wars you never expected. When you get that call that another one of your platoon mates is gone. They were the best of men. Only the dead have seen the end of war.

Blessed be the Lord, my rock,
    who trains my hands for war,
    and my fingers for battle;
he is my steadfast love and my fortress,
    my stronghold and my deliverer,
my shield and he in whom I take refuge,
    who subdues peoples under me.
O Lord, what is man that you regard him,
    or the son of man that you think of him?
Man is like a breath;
    his days are like a passing shadow.
-Psalm 144:1-4

Postscript

Ghosts, cause I know some of you read this. I hope I did us some justice with this post. As you know, this is not a full account of our time together. In many ways it only scratches the surface. If there is anything glaring that I need to rectify, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I love you all. Ghosts Forever.