5 responses to ““Dr. Happy” Brought in to “Toughen Up” Army Troops”

1. 

   yoyo

   August 23, 2009

   Well since letting them go without any treatment is working soooo well in terms of dead spouses and well-armed men who can’t go to the bar without starting a firefight, perhaps you’re right and we should do f*k nothing.

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2. 

   Adrienne

   August 24, 2009

   $117 million divided by 1500 is $78,000 per sargeant that will be trained. That must be some serious training….
   I’m grateful for our troops and believe they should be fully supported, but this smells like a boondoggle to me.

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3. 

   Walt

   August 24, 2009

   Selwyn,
   I very much enjoyed this article.
   This issue like many others in our society comes down to one simple question. How much do we really want to fix the problem? Converting a citizen to an effective warrior and back to a citizen is certainly a challenge. Before I get into what I mean by that please let me share my perspective and life experience in the matter.
   As for myself, I have never served in combat. However, in the days leading up to the Gulf War in the early nineties, I was the prime age for the battlefield. I had just had my first son and the whole world was ahead of me. As the conflict over Kuwait built to climax, the news every night hashed and rehashed how this rumored war might play out. From the perspective of the talking heads, this war would not be a walk over. Saddam Hussein had the worlds fourth largest army with a Republican Guard that was as elite as the world had seen. There were rumors of the draft being reinstated. Based upon that evidence I began preparing my mind for war. My father and my grandfather had both served in the army at time of war (WW, Viet Nam) and the experiences which they had shared with me, gave me a perspective of reality that the John Wayne movies didn’t. War is hell, and I was warming my heart and mind for hell. I couldn’t sleep and when I did I would wake up in a cold sweat. Could I kill? Was I ready to die? I looked at my wife and child differently and each time I looked upon them I tried to force myself to imprint the memory deep in my mind as a photograph. I knew if I was stuck in a bunker in a sandstorm that would be my only comfort. This experience was very real to me, and based upon that I look at the real soldiers with much more admiration and compassion than I may have otherwise.
   As David Copperfield before me I was born. I know it to be true because I read the telegram, announcing my birth to my father stationed overseas (in Germany on leave). My father volunteered for the war in Viet Nam, perhaps out of duty to his country perhaps to quell the anxiety of his impending draft. He served in the 173D Airborne Brigade; a paratrooper. He hated to speak of the war. When I asked him about the war he changed. He divulged very little. He would speak almost monotone of walking in the swamps for days on end with his rifle held high, squeezing through thickets of razor sharp thorns as long as your fingers. Just the thought of being wet for days on end is almost inconceivable to me. Most of my queries to him were done at a very young age, before I knew the impact the war had on him. I was seeking a story of a glorious warrior, to brag upon as a child. Perhaps he was just like Charles Bronson or Steve Mc Queen; I hoped, either way my Dad was a hero to me. Then, as a child I did get one more piece of the puzzle. He killed three men, all at close range. In his admittance to the fact he sought no glory, only sorrow. In my youth I can remember, I was disappointed that it was only three; not so glorious in my view. I wanted a photo of a gunstock with rows of notches and slashes, each signifying a glorious kill. Perhaps it was my attempt to understand this very distant man; a man I did not know. Years later and after his death I have found out much more about him from my mother, his brother and other sources. He went to war as an angry confused godless man, perhaps as a plea for acceptance from his father. He returned from war to an angry confused nation, he was called a baby killer and a monster by John Kerry and Jane Fonda. As I found out much later, he spent most of his life on Lithium to battle depression, and made many attempts on his own life. Despite the VA psychiatrist’s attempts to heal him, his life was strewn with failed businesses, marriages and alcohol was never more than arms reach away. Later in his life, only a few years from the end, he accepted, Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. His sins were washed away and he had the first peace of his life. I think only then did he deal with the war. A piece of a lost generation.
   My grandfather served in WW2 as a private. His introduction to the European continent was on the wind swept beaches of Normandy. He witnessed the red tide and the bodies of young men strewn as far as the eye could see. He knew with each body there was a story; a letter to a wife, mother son or daughter. A tank destroyer division was his appointment as he toured the hedges and forests of France. He saw his friends die; he killed many and was injured in battle himself; a deaf ear and a hunk of steel in his arm he brought home. He endured loneliness, hunger, cold nights and a severe bout with trench foot. I had many conversations with him about his time over there, always with tears welling in his eyes. He would casually look away pull of his glasses and wipe the tears as an attempt to conceal his emotions; he couldn’t fool me. My dad was a bit bitter towards my grandfather’s willingness to talk about the war; likely jealousy with his ability to re-assimilate into society. After my grandfather died a few years back, I had the honor of reading a few of his letters to home during the war. Reading the letters really gave me understanding of this man that left his wife and child to fight on foreign soil. The man I knew as my grandfather was a strong devout Christian man; a member of the church board and city council. But as I found out later when he left for war he was a devout Christian that prayed for his safety, and his family every day; they reciprocated. Was his effective conversion from citizen to warrior back to citizen and his relationship with Jesus Christ a coincidence?
   Back to the original question- How much do we really want to fix the problem?
   My hypothesis- A man that has a close personal relationship with Jesus Christ can make a more effective and complete transformation from citizen to warrior back to citizen. Additionally, a man that has a relationship with Christ would be less likely predisposed to battlefield indisscression.
   Perhaps we should study the Christian dynamic, in relationship to an effective return to society after combat. If in fact my hypothesis is correct, is the leadership of our society so anti-God, that they would ignore or suppress the findings? After the horrors of war a man must deal with what he saw and did. He can suppress it and let it change him one way or another or he can find a vent. Some returning Veterans join the Hells Angels as a vent; often not a model citizen as result. Some bind up their anger, guilt, and sorrow and let it destroy them and their families. A few turn violent. But my grandfather was more the rule than the exception of WW2 returning Vets. Perhaps before these great men all die we should interview them and find out to what or to Whom, do they attribute their successful re-assimilation.

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4. 

   Philip France

   August 24, 2009

   Walt,
   Your post is very poignant and well-articulated. I wish to add only this Maxim, which I share whenever I preach the Gospel: There can be no peace without the Prince of Peace.
   God bless you, dearest friend.

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5. 

   Sel Nguyen Duc

   September 7, 2009

   “When we hear that the U.S. Army is spending $117 million to toughen up combat troops mentally, we certainly don’t expect the ancient Spartan regime of blood soup, reed beds and whippings to inure one to pain. Yet we might not guess a program of “emotional resiliency classes,” either.” – Mr. Selwyn Duke
   If the military really wanted to toughen up the troops it should force them to read Duke’s stuff. They would either get “Spartan” tough real quick or gouge out their eyes from sheer dullness and boredom.
   Okay that’s a bad idea. An army of blind troopers isn’t going to do anyone any good.

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