Part Six – Band of Brothers

In life, there is time to doubt. Time to question. Do these questions ever truly get answered? Do our doubts get soothed? Not fully. I believe this is why the great minds of our histories tend to go mad (or at least appear so to the casual observer). This is why people who struggle with the past get wrapped up in a myriad of doubts and regrets.

Those who have seen war must face mental and emotional obstacles not known to civilians. These stresses and tensions of the mind usually do not present themselves immediately, but instead, tend to seed in the deep recesses of the consciousness. In time, after a Tour of Duty is completed, long after the tensions of battle leave the conscious mind, the seemingly normal humdrum of civilian life resumes. When the alertness of the battlefield leaves your present awareness, your life slows. Your fears and concerns go from life and death objectives to more petty ones of material gains and financial debt. Once your old life has returned and you have settled back into a rhythm, your mind relaxes and the seeds of the visions of your wartime actions are given an opportunity to rise. For a lucky few, they never come to harvest. But for many, these visions bare a nightmarish fruit. Fear, loathing, regret, confusion, anger and terror are just a handful of the emotions that have seeded themselves into a soldier’s heart, mind, recollections and dreams turned nightmares.

Soldier’s Heart, Shell Shock, Battle Fatigue, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome....they all have slightly different meanings, but they all point to a soldier’s mind when it begins to unravel buried trauma. We sometimes forget that trauma can suffered by the giver and the receiver of any specific scenario. The above terms mostly point to temporary problems that have solutions - such as rest. But no amount of rest will cure battle fatigue.

Beyond the death, destruction, regret, victory, loss, and power that are accomplished and shifted on the battlefield, there is an unspoken bond. Nothing bonds you tighter to another human soul than the trenches of warfare. In that world, there can be no doubt. Fear must be forgotten. You share and bare the essence of your fragile humanity with those whom you share a foxhole. There is no hiding. The trifles of civilian life vanish when a mortar explodes next to your position, or a flaming arrow misses your head by inches. Thoughts of those back home, recollections of who cheated at cards the night before, or who ate whose rations, or who got the squad in trouble by showing up late for roll call – all of these things disappear from the conscious mind when you enter the fray….as brothers.

Shakespeare must have known something of war. He certainly knew something of death, having lived in England in the 1600s. There are very few who have transcended time when writing of war.

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse; We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.' Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words- Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester- Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

I have never felt such a complete connection with another as I have in war, we truly were a band of brothers. Complete reliance on others and by others. No ego. No question. No doubt. These things cannot be afforded in battle. All attentions and intentions are immediate in the present moment. If you fade into the past or the future, you die or you get your brothers killed. Your life is literally in the hands of your fellow soldiers, and theirs in yours. Simple need, necessity and dependence on others.

No other type of relationship can compare. Ego, questions and doubt creep into every other relationship. In war, there is no time to analyze and doubt. The bonds you form in battle last longer than the best marriages. When you share such a reliance on others - your life depends on it - you stand with them until the end.

With civilian relationships, and in civilian life, there is a great deal of down-time. Too much down time allows the devils of our nature to take hold. Demons reroute our logical brain and can plant thoughts of jealousy, greed, anger, self-doubt, fear, and emptiness. We look for answers in others, not knowing their true motivations. If they don't give us what we want, the demons take over.

Soldiers don't rely on verbal communication to express their needs, wants, and intentions toward one another. In battle, you all have the same goal - to stay alive, and to win. But when they re-enter civilian life, they find that civilians need verbal reassurance. After you have seen your brother's head blown off - words seem petty. Nevertheless, the soldier must re-acclimate himself to the civilian lifestyle and mentality. This means, among other things, an increase in downtime. Unfortunately, these devils find their way into the soldier’s heart when living a civilian life full of traffic jams, bad television and downtime. When the war is over, the real war begins.

War does beautiful and horrific things to the human mind. It is beautiful in the moments of battle when you are completely present and aware - your mind stops as instinct and training take over. You KNOW that those around your are after your best interests - keeping you alive. It is horrific in the years following the war as you reflect on the nature of your actions. Many experience nightmares. Many become paranoid that people are out to get them. Many desire to be isolated and alone, only to find themselves delving into the darkest parts of themselves when left alone. If there be no friendly arm to keep them in check, or a supportive voice to guide them safely home, they plunge into the abyss of nightmarish self doubt, confusion, anger, violence, and regret.

If you haven't experienced it, you cannot understand, and usually, the soldier doesn't want to tell you the things he has done to other human beings. If the soldier is alone, he must find others who have witnessed and experienced war. He must find those with whom he can freely express his mind and bear his soldier's heart.

Battle will always be a part of a soldier. The demon-seeds of war-time actions will always be a part of a soldier's heart. With time, a soldier can accept these memories as his own. With acceptance of the deeds, the nightmares subside, if not cease all together, and true bonds of civilian brotherhood can be formed.