KABUL, Afghanistan (AP) — A military helicopter was shot down in eastern Afghanistan, killing 31 U.S. special operation troops, most of them from the elite Navy SEALs unit that killed al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden, along with seven Afghan commandos. It was the deadliest single incident for American forces in the decade-long war.
This sounds odd, but I have always believed that my joining the military was a predetermined factor in my life. I vividly remember growing up with a distinct yet unarticulated fear that I would one day find myself wearing a military uniform. Makes no sense, I know- especially if you knew me as an aloof little kid.
Really, I don’t think that anyone outside of my brain would have expected that this seemingly colorblind child could be vectoring towards a uniform….
So here I am now, twelve years in, humming along smoothly and hopefully doing a good job of matching my socks as I aim for competence in the execution of my military duties. I’m cognizant of the fact that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but exactly how that is supposed to play out in the broader context of the world- I’m really not sure.
I look at the news today and see the heart-sinking headline that we have lost a lot of people in one blow over Afghanistan. I find this report sobering, but then a part of me thinks that I should have no greater reaction to this than if it were Just Another War Day where we suffered “only” one or two casualties. For some reason though, today is having a particularly strong impact, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe I’m just getting soft in my old age, but my heart wrenches now, still after ten years of living through (and thankfully not in) OPERATION ENDURING FREEDOM.
SEAL Team Six: great lads- they killed Bin Laden for us. But I don’t think that I’m pausing to write about this news because we Americans have suffered some “celebrity casualties”. I think that for me, the bigger issue is that their deaths remind us that our victories can only ever be briefly celebrated. The story never ends and the credits never roll. The game that we play is real, and there are no guarantees that the characters participating in our life stories will make it through unharmed.
I have no idea what impact my life’s work will have on the world, if anything at all. Really, I’m not looking to do anything special, and this path that I am on – the one that has placed me in the service of my beloved country – could be easily snuffed out the next time I walk in front of an African taxi. Nothing is ever promised, and as we have seen yet again today- you’ve got only today to do what matters to you.
So despite the tragic news and my despondent observations, I can say that I do find a bit of solace in the ultimate price that is sometimes paid for our line of work. It’s a belief that rises above all political and ideological bickering about the war and the state of America: I believe that there is no greater honor than giving your life in defense of your country- especially if it is a place that you believe merits the price of your life. For me this is a strong conviction, one that made my decision to raise my right hand and serve a very easy one.
I’ve got a pretty good hunch that most of our combat casualties probably felt the same way, and I can only hope that their families can feel at least a twinge of this sentiment as they endure what must be a horrible knock on their door.