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A Tale of Two Veterans' Day Events

By Meg Miner

A local high school (population 1,700) planned a Veterans' Day assembly followed by a lunchtime Q&A with an anti-war veteran (that was my part). Veterans from the community were speaking and attending as honored guests. The principal greeted everyone warmly on arrival and pointed to a room adjacent to the gym where we were to wait and enter as a group. I declined and found my way to the back of the gym where I could take it all in as anonymously as a post-middle-aged woman can in a sea of youth.

My focus was on the student body filling the gym's bleachers and I found it amazing that they were attentive for most of the hour-long program. I was moved by the effort it took to pull together an event with speakers, chorus, band and even opportunities for students to signal their familial connections to veterans.

Stories of veterans' suicides filled the news that week, and even with the cheerful martial music I couldn't keep away thoughts of how many times it would take to fill and empty the bleachers with all the killed and wounded during these students' lives. It's crazy to know that that criminal act, 9/11, is hardly more than a date-stamp on the world's psyche now.

I left the gym full of these thoughts and moved to the Q&A location. Later, I compiled these notes from conversations with about eight students.

The first one said timidly, "Thank you." "What are you thanking me for?" "For going to war for us." "My war was air conditioned," and then I told him about the no-fly war, ca.1993, and how it wasn't in our interest to help the Kurds then. When we needed reasons for a 21st century involvement in Iraq, our concern for their human rights was a marvel! He'd heard of Kurds but thought we were fighting against them.

"What is it like to be a veteran?" I said I would answer what it was like to be an anti-war veteran.

"What is it like to shoot someone?" I never have, but I live with the uncertainty of numerous Cold War bombings, including Libyan children in the 1980s.

"Will we end this war?" We have too much invested in war-making weapons to stop using them.

The last question of the day, asked shyly by a boy: "What was it like to be a girl in the military?" I denied that question was relevant during my career but it comes to mind often now.

A few times I tried to figure out what was on their minds about our current wars.

Once I asked, "Why are we at war?" The first student's answer: "For what they did to the twin towers." Another's: "To stop those beheadings, get those people in line." Me: "Which people?" Student: "The people trying to take our oil." Me: "Whose oil?"

I questioned some about military connections in their families. Most of them knew of someone even if no one was in now. Me: "If your [military] relative was here, what would you ask?" Two wanted to know if they were afraid.

Several mentioned an interest in going into the military. One girl in a group of three that came in together had no interest in going into the military. She asked about depression and if there was a buddy system to help people on active duty. Her two friends each wanted to go in the military, one in the Air Force and one in the Marines. When asked why, one cited a family member's time in the Marines and an interest in trying to push herself "to be strong." She wanted a career; the future Airman wanted a way to get an education.

Three students thanked me for my service as they were leaving. I think a lot about the meaning of "service" and followed up by asking about their community activities. One mentioned volunteer work and I thanked him for his service. I explained that the anti-war people I know, vets or not, are also serving.

Clearly, we have much work to do. That reality was brought home to me by Illinois Senator Dick Durbin at the 2014 Chicago Standdown ten days later.

I love working Standdown. It's a drop in the bucket of meeting basic human needs but needs are met. Standdown also brings back that feeling of camaraderie that is present in high-energy, high-emotion communal experiences where everyone understands the mission and their role.

With the high school event still on my mind, I watched the teenage volunteers as they worked. A group of them were near the kitchen hauling bags and helping the vets get their meals to the tables. I lost count of how many times I saw one boy go by with bags bigger than he was. I wondered which war would put him on the receiving end of a meal at Standdown. Had any of our guests done this kind of service while in school?

In the middle of these thoughts, a group of people with cameras passed the kitchen window. Senator Durbin came next, smiling to the vets and volunteers, shaking hands but moving at a quick pace. I slipped out of the kitchen and followed the group to the dining area where he'd stopped. I got his attention and asked what he was doing to stop the wars and end the cycle that created this soup line. "One war," he said with index finger raised for emphasis, "We're only in one war." Can he truly believe that?

As of this writing, with the official troop withdrawal from both Afghanistan and Iraq complete, he'd probably say we aren't in any. People in Syria, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq and wherever drones roam might question that.

I was honored to work through some hard questions from teenagers this Veterans' Day. It'd be nice to think our elected officials would do a little questioning, too.

Meg Miner is a Gulf-era veteran, member of VVAW and VFP.