As the approaching fall summons students back to Madison, many of us prepare to say goodbye to one set of friends and hello to another. Over the summer, we experience the familiar scene of catching up with our high school pals, exchanging stories of our collegiate capers and learning who got married, pregnant and who still works at Wal-Mart. But the rendezvous is never complete. Friends are always missing, often reflecting the absence of those high school buds who are serving America in a foreign land.
They serve in places like Afghanistan and Iraq, where not only the land is foreign but also the lives of our friends. Instead of worrying about finding the right \look"" for her new apartment, my 11th grade English classmate is training Iraqi policemen. Instead of fretting about a possible Bowling Green upset, the strong safety from my high school football team is ushering Iraqi women to the polls. Instead of basking in the Bascom Hill sun, one of my 10th grade lab partners is in Walter Reed Hospital recovering from the blast of a roadside bomb. They might as well be fighting Martians on Mars, because I can't imagine for a second what it's really like.
When I get the chance to talk with my enlisted friends, the conversation turns choppy every time something about their lives in Iraq is mentioned. There is no real connection between the realities of my day-to-day life and theirs. Even the simple and small things are different??-for instance, the toilet is not a toilet, it is called the ""head.""
I experienced this terrifying disconnect as my friend described an operation in vague terms. She mentioned a standard weapon sometimes used by soldiers. I immediately knew what the weapon was, and without thinking I responded, ""That thing is awesome!"" This outburst triggered her to ask what the hell I was talking about. I knew the weapon from a video game; she knew it from use in combat. Our different relationships with the weapon reflected our different experiences of America at war.
For me, America at war has meant sending thoughts and mail to distant friends, images of war on CNN, references to the troops before sporting events and the ubiquitous ""Support our troops"" stickers. For my friends, America at war has meant separation from family, and the unimaginable specter of a young death. For my friends war really is hell, for me it is a video game.
It is this disconnect between soldier and civilian that makes the bumper sticker version of ""support our troops"" laughable. Supporting the troops does not start with assessing the validity of the casus belli that has been used to put American soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. It begins with trying to overcome the disconnect that has made war as simple as a rally cry and as easy as switching on the Playstation.
At the most fundamental level, the question of how and why to support the troops must begin with the question, particularly at our age, of why they are there and why we are not? Some are there because they believe in the mission at hand, and others because the military is a golden key used to gain admittance into the middle class.
In order to support the troops in the fullest measure possible, it should be our goal to eliminate the distinction between those who want to fight and those who have to fight. But never has a country set such a lofty goal and until that day, supporting the troops should be a national concession of guilt, admitting the fact that we are neither strong enough nor courageous enough to go to war as a whole. So we should support the troops and thank them for their dedication to their mission, their courage, but most importantly we should thank them for putting their lives in danger so that we can continue with ours unaffected.
