Unitarian Universalist Meeting of South Berkshire

November 11, 2007

“Learning From Our Veterans”

Rev. Kathy Duhon

Today is Veterans’ Day, a day to celebrate, but it’s not supposed to be about storewide sales, although they are advertised, nor was it always a holiday, but some are given a day off from work. Originally, this was called “Armistice Day” to mark the end of World War I, and it became a federal holiday in 1926. This is a day to celebrate the peace, and to do that well, we should honor those who served to secure the peace, the veterans of our military conflicts. And always, the best way we can honor those who secure the peace is to continue to wage peace, to prevent war, to end war, for the veterans will tell you quite clearly that “War is Hell”. War should never be fought for illegitimate reasons. And these days, war should never be fought at all, but that’s another story.

Two and a half years ago I wrote a rather long essay, which was trying to be a book, about the experiences of veterans, and this congregation did much of the research by interviewing veterans. I’m afraid it’s an unfinished project, but I do want to share with you some of what I learned from the many veterans of a few different military conflicts, who answered my questions through the kind assistance of some of you. After watching Ken Burns’ documentary on World War II, I noticed many of the same themes came up in his work as well.

The first thing I learned was not in answer to a question, but was spoken about anyway by the veterans, that their military experience had benefited their lives, and they often said this had surprised them. The many areas of benefit brought enduring changes to their lives, including everything from learning teamwork and leadership skills, to unlearning prejudice and making lasting friendships. They experienced a strong sense of belonging and many of them knew that they were doing something worthy.

Sal Pignataro said that his war experience “made me a better person” and this sentiment was echoed by most. Sal said he is “more giving and not wanting to kill.” Michael Kuzara said, “I appreciate life more and the people around me. I tolerate or ignore people with negative feelings.” The benefits didn’t outweigh the hard parts, though. As Dominick Desetta said, and others echoed his sentiment in various ways, “It was a good experience going overseas, but I wouldn’t want to do it again.”

One of the benefits that I want to lift up was the true gift of travel, and most of the veterans we spoke with talked about how great it was to learn about interesting people, places, and cultures. They learned about poverty and injustice. They explained, as Earl Seely did of his time in Japan, how “The ‘enemy’ had a human face. I had to give up my young soldier’s prejudices,” he said.

Travel gives you a new perspective. People who travel are often jolted into realizing that they are not the center of the world, nor are the group of people to whom they belong. Travel wakes you up.

My Dad’s experience was similar to many veterans – he had only ever been to Texas and Mississippi from his small hometown in Louisiana, and he took every opportunity he had to travel during his army leaves in Europe. He managed to be in Paris for Bastille Day and Rome for Easter weekend. Elton Duhon was in the occupation of Germany during World War II, after the European conflict was over, and told how the American soldiers had been taught prejudices about the Germans that were not true. He said, “I got to respect other people in other countries.” and he noticed, “The Germans were fed the same propaganda we were” and they found out it wasn’t true either.

Meeting other people changes your understanding of how the world works, from a learned sense of “us and them” to a universal feeling of “we”. Even Michael Kuzara, a prisoner of war in Austria for eleven months, was able to say, “In many countries the people are all the same.”

Sometimes the life-changing experience of meeting new people came from meeting other Americans. As Phil True put it, “One of the byproducts of World War II was that it brought together people from all walks of life. Most of us had traveled little before the war and so the mores of Southerners in general, of Texans, of New Yorkers, of New Englanders, was foreign territory for a callow Midwestern youth like myself. It also brought me into contact with people of far different stations in life.”

Another thing I learned from Veterans, and only in part, is how terribly difficult the experiences were for them. They did not complain, but they were specific and graphic about what they had to endure. From the adjustment to radically different lifestyles, to the discomforts of doing your duty in all kinds of weather and with much to weigh you down, veterans marveled at how they made it through. They spoke about their terrible injuries, some having close calls with death, and they told of their deep losses and difficult imprisonment. In one example, Orlo Day described the treatment he finally had for his internal injuries from shrapnel: “The night after … was the most painful experience in my young life. I couldn’t sleep and there weren’t enough drugs to keep me from groaning.”

The memories are intense. As Peter Gendron said of the grief that accompanied him after Vietnam, “You never see a battle in a TV movie or filming of war, like Iraq, without it touching memories. Something triggers it off.” Some had bad dreams. Some drank too much. Some were extremely angry.

Many of the veterans spoke of their fears. Vietnam veteran Leonard DiNardo called it “fear with a capital F.” Dominick Desetta talked about being frightened at times; and for him it was especially about the bullets and shrapnel during a battle outside Naples in World War II. He said that sirens going off scared him, but when some rockets were fired without warning, there was no time for fear.

Fear is not something we talk about easily, and so it is particularly important to hear these brave men talking about the reality of their fear, both during their war experiences, and how they still are affected by it. Many of them lived through the scariest times of their lives during their military service. They learned both to be brave and to be cautious. They didn’t talk about their bravery, though, but it was there in the stories. They spoke of someone else’s bravery and how it impressed them. These veterans were fearful and brave, and they endured.

Quite a number of veterans commented on how hard it was to witness the death of their comrades. In his interview, World War II veteran Chet Kalm put it in perspective with all the other difficult experiences: “For me the hard part was not the training, forced marches, submitting to the sometimes cruel leveling that a wartime military imposes on all recruits, but rather the experience of surviving a German bombardment which killed the two other members of my 60 mm. mortar squad – perhaps a couple of yards away – and having to carry the imponderable weight of loss as the survivor.”

There is so much more the veterans said, but I want to lift up only one more thing I learned from them – many have had to deal with moral conflict about their military service. Although a couple of veterans declared that they encountered no guilt or moral dilemmas, that they were sure they were doing the right thing, many expressed the dissonance between the values they’d been raised with and the behavior that was expected of them in wartime. One of our most precious values is not killing another human being. We learn this in every way from our families, our religions, our society. Veterans have to climb over great inner obstacles to be able to do this unthinkable act, and most could never do it except in the context of war.

Not everyone could face their conflict. One Vietnam veteran said he wouldn’t do the interview because he had a bad experience with killing people and he didn’t want to talk about it. Someone else said that “he felt he had to do it.”

Sometimes the veterans questioned the morality of those around them, as Charles Ketchen did when he mentioned that he didn’t like the way some servicemen treated Thai people. Willis Bussard told the story of rescuing a pilot from Texas in World War II, who had a six gun on his waist. When the pilot was asked about it he said it was given to him as a gift when he left home, but that he had not seen much to shoot at except a couple of old men on bicycles. Willis said this gave him a bad impression of Texas.

Mostly, the veterans questioned the morality and efficacy of war, and expressed their deep desire for peace. Elton Duhon said, “War is Hell. We don’t need a war – I guarantee you.” Sal Pingataro was equally clear, “Wars are not called for.” As Orlo Day described a major military engagement they performed, that actually worked to plan, with no casualties on either side, he said, “It would be nice if all wars were composed of battles like that. It would be even better not to have wars.

I want to conclude with the words of Albert Schweitzer, Unitarian and Humanitarian, who worked to prevent a nuclear conflict in the last years of his life.

“In the hearts of people today there is a deep longing for peace. When the true spirit of peace is thoroughly dominant, it becomes an inner experience with unlimited possibilities. Only when this really happens – when the spirit of peace awakens and takes possession of men’s hearts, can humanity be saved from perishing.”

To honor the sacrifice of the veterans and to prevent further sufferings for the many, may our deep longing for peace help create a saving reality for this world that is so weary of war. Peace be to you and to everyone. Amen.