Playing for Keeps

TSO wrote a short article the other day that got me to thinking.  And when that happens, regular readers know I sometimes tend to wander off the beaten path a bit.

Yeah, you’re right – your luck ran out.  I’m about to go on another walkabout.  (smile)

But this time, it’s not about music.

. . .

The statement that piqued my interest was from this article TSO posted a few days ago.  It was his statement that

The best sleep I’ve had since coming home from A-Stan was when I was back there as a reporter. And my stress level over there was significantly less than it is here at home.

For the most part – yeah, pretty much the same here.  I haven’t been back to either Iraq or Afghanistan.  But most of the time, I slept like a baby while deployed – better than while here in the US, I think.  Except for the few nervous/scary moments, work-related stress was pretty damn easily handled.

I’m guessing I’m not alone.  In fact, I’m guessing many if not most people who’ve deployed to a shooting war probably feel similarly.

As Mark noted, that’s counterintuitive as hell.  Why, then, is it the case?

I dunno, really.  But I can hazard a guess.

Standard disclaimer:  I’m not a shrink, so I might be way off base in what follows.  But it makes sense to me.

I’m also writing this from a soldier’s perspective.  I presume things are much the same for those deployed at sea, or with the Air Force.  But I can’t really speak for them.

Deployment:  Life Reduced to Essentials

As Mark noted – life while deployed is life reduced to the basics.  I think that’s one reason why many of us miss it.

Our lives are full of “stuff” – much of it self-generated.  All of it creates demand on your time and energy.

There’s almost always more to do than there is time.  Balancing all of that imposes complexity – and stress.

And, frankly, much of what we have in our lives is not strictly necessary.  Seriously:  in the great scheme of things, does it really matter that much if the car is shiny, or if the lawn is freshly-mowed and edged?  Or where you’re going or what you’re making for dinner?  Or if you’re going to buy groceries today?  Does anyone’s life depend on the answer to those questions?

In a combat zone, things are different – and simpler.  You have what you have – and not a bunch of extraneous stuff distracting you.  Many decisions are made for you.  In general, the “small stuff” just isn’t there.  You worry about really two things:  doing your assigned job, and staying alive.

If you’re a leader, you have a couple of other concerns.  One is keeping track of your people.  The second is keeping them sharp, on their toes, and doing their jobs.

That’s about it.

Further:  unlike many civilian jobs, what you’re doing is generally well-defined (albeit sometimes a head-scratcher).  And agree or not, the intent is usually clear enough that you can fill in the missing gaps.

The essential things you don’t do yourself are done for you – generally, quite reliably.  And when you get right down to it, there just isn’t all that much left that’s truly essential.

Bottom line:  life is both fairly simple and fairly binary.   BS games and nonessential things are relatively few and far between.  So, it’s easy to focus on what’s important.

Civilian life often just isn’t like that.

High-Stakes Gambling – For Body and Soul

I’ll say this up-front:  no human experience really compares to being deployed to combat.  Going to a place where you know there’s someone else out there who wants to kill you – and who will, given the chance – is simply very different than anything you’re likely to experience anywhere else.  That part’s true whether or not you actually get shot at.  LE officers engaged in a “bust” are perhaps the only ones I can think of that might experience anything close.

Even then, there’s a second factor:  nothing compares to getting shot at.  Until that happens – either by direct fire or indirect (mortars, rockets, artillery) – “buying the farm” is merely a theoretical concept.  Once that happens the first time, whether or not anyone is hit . . . you know damn well now it’s real.

That experience is truly make or break.  Most handle it.  A few can’t, and break under the stress.

In a way, being deployed to a bona fide combat zone (that is, one where there’s actual hostilities – even if sporadic) is gambling for the ultimate stakes.  It’s the ultimate “adrenalin rush”.  It brings one the highest highs I can think of- if not the highest – and can bring the lowest lows known.

It’s the ultimate self-test as well.  Even if no one else sees, you can’t hide from yourself.  You know if you “measured up” or not.  And that tells you a lot about whether you will in the future.

I believe that adrenalin “roller-coaster-ride” – bored out of your skull for the most part, punctuated by periods of sheer crazy excitement/terror – is a huge part of the reason we miss being deployed sometimes after we return.  People do dangerous, high-risk stuff “for thrills” all the time.  What’s more dangerous – and more compelling – than going “mano-a-mano” with literally your life on the line?

With one possible exception, the most intense moment in life you’ll ever know is that moment you realize you might not see another sunrise.  The possible exception?  When you’ve made it through a crisis and realize – thankfully – that you will indeed live to see another day.

It’s not life in the “civilized world”.  Part of us craves order and civilization.  But I think there’s a part in each of us that secretly craves a disorderly struggle, too.

In short:  it’s simultaneously incredibly thrilling and terrifying.  And it’s addictive as hell.

War Is Terrible . . . and Seductive

Lee said it best:  “It is well that war is so terrible.  Otherwise, we would grow too fond of it.”  God help me, but I indeed understand exactly what he meant.

War is indeed a terrible thing.  It’s destructive.  Things get broken – many things.  Land is spoiled, sometimes for years.  People are injured and maimed; all too many die.  The waste and suffering is immense.

And yet . . . war has its own compelling attractiveness.  War may indeed be hell – but dear Lord, at times it’s a magnificently beautiful hell.

Aircraft popping flares.  Tracer rounds at night.  The nighttime flashes of artillery you can barely hear backlighting structures and landmarks.  The zooming whoosh of an incoming rocket.  The burned-but-not-quite smell of jet or turbine exhaust.  Hearing – and feeling – a close explosion.  The click-clack of a round being chambered.

Yeah, they’re all scary things.  And they’re all simultaneously and eerily beautiful, too.

There’s an incredibly seductive attraction in being part of a massive, effective, destructive “green machine”.  The power of the equipment and armaments used – and the people wielding them – is simply amazing.  It has to be seen to be believed.

Whether you’re the one in charge or simply a role-player, you feel that power – and that incredible attraction.

There’s also another beauty – an internal, and very human one.  For a time, you’re truly an integral part of something larger than yourself.  Very literally, you’re engaged in a life-and-death struggle on behalf of your nation with your brothers- and sisters-in-arms.

That experience itself is amazingly fulfilling and rewarding.  Couple that with the seductive beauty of war and well, yeah.

Lee was right.

. . .

Am I glad I’m back in the US now, and no longer deployed?  Yes.  Every day I’m thankful for that.  And yet . . . .

Honestly:  yes, fairly often I miss being deployed.  And I think I likely always will.

Playing for keeps is damned addictive.

 

Thanks for listening.  Hope you weren’t bored.

Category: Military issues, Veterans Issues, Who knows