Diary of a Military Kid: Coming to Terms

This blog is part of a series that former military child and current college sophomore Alison will be writing  for The Comfort Crew. Her unique voice and viewpoint are a great insight into the mindset of a child who has faced the challenges of being in a military family.

I could have been a lifeguard this summer, a waitress, a college kid cashier at the brand new, fancy grocery store down the street. Instead, I decided to work far away from home, pitch my tent, and live and work on an organic farm in rural Virginia.  I learned how much time on the part of small-scale farmers is dedicated to the production of quality produce, how to treat growing things like an art, and the beauty of close observation. I learned how to practice the peaceful resistance of a small-scale farmer, someone who refuses to let genetically modified organisms and pesticide use define the food market of the entire nation and struggles to make produce available to people of all economic backgrounds.

Though I felt I had found one of my callings in life- growing things- I also ran into some inner conflict. I spent a lot of time around people who disagreed with our country’s involvement overseas, couldn’t understand why someone would choose a military career, and considered war an antiquated, useless tradition.  I’ve always wished war wasn’t real and thought it wasn’t worth it, from the time we didn’t hear from my dad for months, when I raced to the phone to talk to him for a minute and a few seconds, when my family video-taped Christmas Day present-opening to share with our fourth and missing member who was thousands of miles away, when I saw news coverage of daily casualties. I wanted to tell my friends at the farm, trust me, if there’s anyone who wishes for the extinction of war, it’s a military kid. But I didn’t. Instead I just kept my mouth shut and thought about things.

I observed the simple and peaceful life all my friends lived around me. The community in a hidden valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains, where parents didn’t worry about their children playing outside all day, doors were never locked or rarely even shut, and there aren’t really strictly enforced boundaries for much of anything. And I came to the sad realization that war has always been an unfortunate and necessary evil. This is not to say I think military involvement is always the answer. But I know that this quiet and loving community may not exist without a band of protectors. That’s the sad part of human nature you have to figure out on your own, even if you still hope and believe in the inherent goodness of everyone. Conflict exists, and people feel compelled to guard what they love- be it a piece of land, a tradition, a right, a spouse, or a child.

One day a co-worker and friend asked me how I had such a good head on my shoulders for someone who has led a life around soldiers, and how a seemingly smart and kind man like my Dad could choose to participate in the less than honorable profession of being a soldier.  He asked me if I thought about the lives damaged by casualties of the opposition, and if those lives lost at the hands of our soldiers merited American celebration and patriotism.

I told him it was like this: I regret death on either side and I do not think the patriotism he thinks most soldiers display is the celebration of another’s death so much as it is the celebration of continued life in their own country- at the cost of their own life or limb, permanent mental and/or physical trauma, the guilt of having harmed another human being, irreplaceable lost time, or a fractured family.  I told him most soldiers I’ve known, including my dad, are driven by something a civilian might not understand. They sacrifice everything to keep the things others love safe. And that takes more than the brainless, brawny, gun-toting portrayal of a soldier much of the media glorifies.  As for where I got my good head- it came from being raised around selflessness, encouragement to do something for what you may believe is the greater good, and intelligent and kind people.

People involved in conflict and war do and see terrible things. In my mind, that cannot be disputed. Though I don’t support violence, I do understand that situations sometimes require it. I understand that however right or wrong it may be, service members are voluntarily dedicating their lives and everything they have or care about to protect a child, who plays barefoot in a field without fearing setting off a landmine, to preserve the feeling you have of being safe in your own bed, to allow access to all the resources our country depends on for the maintenance of its comfortable lifestyle, and even the ones it truly needs. And that is honorable.
Until the day comes when nobody on Earth believes in threats, inequalities of race, religion, tradition, or selfish feelings of entitlement to a particular resource or plot of land, I would ask you to consider what you might do for someone you’ve never met. Would you give an arm, a leg, or your life? Would you make a choice to benefit someone else that would forever alter the lives of your loved ones? It’s a tough question, but as long as there are other people answering and solving it for you, you may not even have to think about it.