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It's fucked up. In the reddit thread on this article, a writer did a magnificent short story/prose piece about it and I felt compelled to share it with ya'll. I've followed this guy's work for a while, but by far this is the closest he's written to my heart.

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The story:

Two hundred twenty pounds of muscle. Fourteen medals, including two purple hearts. Forty eight confirmed kills to his name, and not a single friend left in the living world.

He'd seen them all go. Over there, the death of a friend was surreal, almost as if it was temporary. The military told them to bury it deep, to pretend it didn't affect them. He always told himself, "That's war. That's how it has to be." Between the sleepless nights and the unpredictable bloodshed that hallmarked the Middle Eastern Conflict, he didn't have time to think. He didn't have time to wonder if the Military cared about any of them.

When his sergeant found out he had been crying in his bunk, his sergeant took him out to the marching grounds in the middle of the night.

"You are a killing machine! Say it, damn it! YOU. ARE. A. KILLING. MACHINE."

"I am a killing machine!"

"Louder, Soldier!"

"*I AM A KILLING MACHINE!"

"Say it again! You are a machine! You do not feel! You do not care! All you do is kill! Say it again!"

His sergeant made him shout it, over and over, until the blistering sun rose above the mountains, and his voice was nothing more than a painful rasp.

The conflict never ended, but his tour did. When he came back Stateside, it wasn't the guilt that broke him. It was the fear - the fear that he'd never be a normal human being again. The fear that nobody cared about him, because he was just a broken machine.

He sat in the kitchen, in his full combat gear. He clutched his M4 to his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks.

That's when he saw it.

There was a magnet on his fridge. It was blue, and had bright, white lettering that read, "Need something, soldier? Call the VA Hotline Anytime, Day or Night!"

When he left, he swore he would never take another order from the Military. But this time, it didn't feel like an order. It felt like, for once, maybe they were trying to help. He picked up his phone, so new he had never used it to call anyone, and dialed the number.

Ring.

His heart fluttered. Maybe it was different over here, in the States.

Ring.

Maybe they did care about him, here.

Ring.

Maybe they weren't lying. Maybe they really wanted to help him become human again.

Ring.

Click.

"Hello? Hello, I think I need help-"

"This is the Veteran's Association Hotline. We're sorry, but nobody is able to take your call. Please leave a message and we will return your call when we can. Thank you, and have a nice day!"

His hands wrapped tightly around his M4.

Or maybe he could be a killing machine, just one more time.

Posted

I saw that before. it is heartbreaking that they treat vets that way. They don't really care. 22 veterans a day commit suicide, and they still don't do anything. More soldiers have died from suicide than were killed in the war. Still they do nothing. My country that I served, has called us Murderers, baby killers, and domestic terrorists. It has made me think that I wasted my life serving this country at times. Then I am fortunate to meet someone who shakes my hand and says "Thank You for your Service." It gives me a little hope that my country may not be totally lost after all.

Posted
I saw that before. it is heartbreaking that they treat vets that way. They don't really care. 22 veterans a day commit suicide, and they still don't do anything. More soldiers have died from suicide than were killed in the war. Still they do nothing. My country that I served, has called us Murderers, baby killers, and domestic terrorists. It has made me think that I wasted my life serving this country at times. Then I am fortunate to meet someone who shakes my hand and says "Thank You for your Service." It gives me a little hope that my country may not be totally lost after all.

It really seems like the public cares more about what you did then the people responsible for sending you to do it, but at the same time....we're so disconnected from war and the military, other than a late-night ad on TV for the Marines, showing glorious helicopter jumps and uplifting rock music, that it's all for some reason. Maybe we can't handle the reality, or maybe we can if we were given the chance.

Either way, it's not working how it is now and it infuriates me to no end.

Posted (edited)

I have never served in the military. My Dad used to tell me about his brother George that served in WWII in Italy. As I grew up and met him he was always proud of what he did but never wanted to discuss details of combat. I think what is happening to veterans now is as Brown stated, a disconnect by society of today. The people of this country saw WWII vets as conquering heroes, saving the world from evil. It is a shame that soldiers of today do not get the same treatment as the vets from WWII, it saddens me because they are doing the same work that those soldiers did, just with a different battlefield situation. I respect anyone that takes a stand and fights for his country.

Edited by Candy 1st MRB

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