And They Joined…
An updated version of a previous essay.
My squadron had a tradition of completing some sort of physical challenge every September 11th — those in the CrossFit world might call it a Hero WOD. It consisted of a three mile run followed by 55 trips up and down our hangar’s stairwell. Three miles represents the distance from a particular New York City firehouse to the Towers, and the 55 trips up and down the double flight of stairs represent the Towers’ 110 floors. Last year we were underway aboard an aircraft carrier, so we had to get a little creative with how we conducted the tribute. In the end, we found 911 box step-ups in the muggy, hot hangar bay to be sufficiently challenging.
Later that evening, speaking to all 200 members of my command, I briefly discussed the significance of 9/11 and how it affected the course of our nation and that of our allies. Looking around the room, I very quickly realized that almost all of the Sailors in my squadron joined a post-9/11 military. I paused and asked for a show of hands from those of us who were on active duty on 9/11. There were four. I asked this small (and graying) group to put its hands down, then asked everyone else to look around. I sensed the younger cohort was bracing for some sort of plea, to recognize their “elders” or thank the “old salts.” But that’s not what I was thinking.
As I looked out at their sweaty, grease-stained flight deck uniforms, I thought how fortunate I am to work with people who made a more difficult decision than I did. I joined during a period of relative calm, when the so-called Peace Dividend was still a thing. They joined a military actively fighting two wars, with no end in sight.
October 7th marked the 19th year of combat operations in Afghanistan and the larger global war against Islamic extremism. In those 19 years, millions of young Americans have served in myriad capacities. Many — too many — didn’t live to return home. Even more came home only to realize how much they’d been changed… scarred…broken, figuratively and literally. The men and women who’ve borne the harsh realities of this war are the young. Today, some are so young they weren’t yet alive when the Towers fell, or when the first cruise missiles were fired into Afghanistan.
They all joined for different reasons. Many joined out of a patriotic sense of duty and a desire to fight evil. Others joined for the upward socioeconomic mobility that the GI Bill and a college education can offer. Others would have joined the circus if it were hiring — they just needed to get out of a dysfunctional, abusive, or addiction-burdened house. Some wanted to fly fast jets and have fun; the responsibilities and risks were simply the price of admission. Regardless of their reasons, they joined.
These are the same men and women who are working in an economy that offers less earning power than their parents enjoyed. They’re adults in a world where the “American dream,” a comfortable middle-class existence, is increasingly difficult to achieve. They live in a country where those who raised and educated them now castigate them for being the products of that same upbringing. There’s something supremely ironic in being shamed for receiving so-called participation trophies by the very people who thought up the ridiculous idea in the first place. These young Americans are regularly criticized for their perceived lack of patriotism, lax work ethic, and general “softness.” They’re young volunteers who now stand in bewilderment, watching their parents and grandparents argue over things they understood to be “inalienable” and “self-evident.”
They’re men and women who had a choice in what to do with their young adult years — and they joined.
The young men and women I served with have their problems and challenges, as did every generation before them. They have wildly romantic ideas of what should be and what could be, as did every generation before them. They have ideas of what is right, what is wrong, what is just, and what is anathema - as did every generation before them. The names change, the fashions and fads change, and the places where they fight and die change. But, in the end, young Americans are doing the same thing today they’ve been doing since our founding — choosing to serve in a time of war and hoping for something better to come. I hope they find it. I hope we find it.
Farva
Views expressed are mine alone and do not represent those of the Department of Defense, the Department of the Navy, or any other government agency.
