It’s not surprising that a small set of plastic army men and a G.I. Joe “Action Figure” had their share of my toy chest real estate in 1965. I guess the toy manufacturer’s marketing team at Hasbro was smart in tagging Joe as such, because I couldn’t imagine any boy’s parent buying him a toy labeled with an effeminate connotation like “Action Doll” in those days.
The first time I witnessed an emotional reaction to the horrors of war outside of the glorified and idealized version depicted on television shows like “Combat”, was an ephemeral incident with my Mom. For my birthday, a relative had given me a bag full of small dark green plastic army men. There must have been at least 50 of these one inch high infantrymen in various combat positions with their guns aimed at an imaginary enemy.
I was excited to tear open the bag and see how many different characters there were and I had just started placing them in battle positions on my bedroom floor, when Mom walked in. After watching me for a moment, she said, “Timmy, I want you to throw away all of those deformed army men missing arms and legs.” As with any quantity of small plastic molds, every so often you’d get a piece that came out incomplete. “Why” I asked. It seemed like no big deal to me and besides, I remember thinking it was kind of cool to use some of those figures to add more realism to the battle scene. She said, “Just do as I say.” Then she abruptly walked out. Her firm, brief and succinct emotional moment has not been lost on me ever since.
As with scary movies, I thought war movies were entertainment only. I didn’t think anyone with common sense would expect to have the realities of war hit so close to home, any more than they could expect one of Boris Karloff’s characters to be waiting for them in the closet when they got back from the theater. I knew war really happened but its realities belonged to another place and time, not the here and now.
Up till then the Vietnam War did not grab the headlines like it would for the next decade. It wasn’t until our young American boys returned home in wheel chairs and coffins by the thousands, that a majority of the public stood up and took notice.
If I had been 18 in 1965, through peer pressure, I probably would have dutifully responded to the draft. In 1968, I’m not so sure, but today, knowing what I know now with my faith in God I would give my life for my country if called upon. These days the only aspect of war to give me pause is the ability to watch my children face those same choices.
“For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does.” 2 Corinthians 10:3
I had an experience years ago when my children were young that struck me. As a family we went to see the Vietnam Memorial when it was in town and of course it was very touching and emotional. I remember seeing some Veterans, standing by the wall in their old beat up uniforms, talking to people. I went up and thanked one of them and recalled my overwhelming sense of gratitude for their sacrifice.
Then unexpectedly I came upon a soldier's name on the wall that had a small newspaper clipping attached along the side. It was from a local Burbank paper in 1965 and it was a typical obituary kind of article that mourned the loss of a couple's son. It stated he was 18 years old when he died.
Again, he was only 18.
At that moment, I remember feeling gut wrenching pain. It hit me like a mack truck. It wasn't that he died. Oh sure that was sad, but that is what happens in war and this young man died honorably, defending democracy and stopping the spread of Communism. If I had my choice of the way I would go, I can't think of any other way.
No, the part that submarined me was the obituary, listing the names of his parents. Now that I was a parent, that truly broke my heart. Tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined that poor couple hearing the news, that their son had been killed. I wondered if they were still alive today. I would wager that if you mentioned it to them 43 years later, the emotions would race to the surface as fast as if it happened yesterday.
Until I was a parent, I don't think I could've ever appreciated how they must have felt. I take comfort in knowing my wife and I have done the best we could as parents. I have led my children spiritually and I know we will all be together in Heaven someday. I guess I'm selfish though, wanting to be the one waiting for them in Paradise, instead of the alternative.
“They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings - and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers." Revelations 17:14
The first time I witnessed an emotional reaction to the horrors of war outside of the glorified and idealized version depicted on television shows like “Combat”, was an ephemeral incident with my Mom. For my birthday, a relative had given me a bag full of small dark green plastic army men. There must have been at least 50 of these one inch high infantrymen in various combat positions with their guns aimed at an imaginary enemy.
I was excited to tear open the bag and see how many different characters there were and I had just started placing them in battle positions on my bedroom floor, when Mom walked in. After watching me for a moment, she said, “Timmy, I want you to throw away all of those deformed army men missing arms and legs.” As with any quantity of small plastic molds, every so often you’d get a piece that came out incomplete. “Why” I asked. It seemed like no big deal to me and besides, I remember thinking it was kind of cool to use some of those figures to add more realism to the battle scene. She said, “Just do as I say.” Then she abruptly walked out. Her firm, brief and succinct emotional moment has not been lost on me ever since.
As with scary movies, I thought war movies were entertainment only. I didn’t think anyone with common sense would expect to have the realities of war hit so close to home, any more than they could expect one of Boris Karloff’s characters to be waiting for them in the closet when they got back from the theater. I knew war really happened but its realities belonged to another place and time, not the here and now.
Up till then the Vietnam War did not grab the headlines like it would for the next decade. It wasn’t until our young American boys returned home in wheel chairs and coffins by the thousands, that a majority of the public stood up and took notice.
If I had been 18 in 1965, through peer pressure, I probably would have dutifully responded to the draft. In 1968, I’m not so sure, but today, knowing what I know now with my faith in God I would give my life for my country if called upon. These days the only aspect of war to give me pause is the ability to watch my children face those same choices.
“For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does.” 2 Corinthians 10:3
I had an experience years ago when my children were young that struck me. As a family we went to see the Vietnam Memorial when it was in town and of course it was very touching and emotional. I remember seeing some Veterans, standing by the wall in their old beat up uniforms, talking to people. I went up and thanked one of them and recalled my overwhelming sense of gratitude for their sacrifice.
Then unexpectedly I came upon a soldier's name on the wall that had a small newspaper clipping attached along the side. It was from a local Burbank paper in 1965 and it was a typical obituary kind of article that mourned the loss of a couple's son. It stated he was 18 years old when he died.
Again, he was only 18.
At that moment, I remember feeling gut wrenching pain. It hit me like a mack truck. It wasn't that he died. Oh sure that was sad, but that is what happens in war and this young man died honorably, defending democracy and stopping the spread of Communism. If I had my choice of the way I would go, I can't think of any other way.
No, the part that submarined me was the obituary, listing the names of his parents. Now that I was a parent, that truly broke my heart. Tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined that poor couple hearing the news, that their son had been killed. I wondered if they were still alive today. I would wager that if you mentioned it to them 43 years later, the emotions would race to the surface as fast as if it happened yesterday.
Until I was a parent, I don't think I could've ever appreciated how they must have felt. I take comfort in knowing my wife and I have done the best we could as parents. I have led my children spiritually and I know we will all be together in Heaven someday. I guess I'm selfish though, wanting to be the one waiting for them in Paradise, instead of the alternative.
“They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings - and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers." Revelations 17:14
This is a beautiful post, Tim. One of my favorite books is still The Things They Carried, in part because it isn't a simple condemnation or glorification of war.
ReplyDeleteAnd also because it is such a fantastic and gripping book.
My four year old son has army men. And a tank. I wouldn't call myself a pacifist, but I have very mixed feelings about those toys.