Damn good start, Dave.
When I was a kid, I always was a bit disappointed that my dad didn't share his war stories. Like many vets, I expect, he told stories about idiot officers and personal gettngs-into-trouble-with-same, but the day to day stuff, such as whatever got him his Bronze Star despite his service function being sheet metal repair in the Army Air Corps, he took those stories to the grave.
And he refused to watch any war movie other than Twelve O'Clock High. I didn't understand that either.
As I've gotten older, though, and got to know more people who have served, I've started to understand his reticence better. That there are some things that those of us "back home" probably can never understand.
I'm an academic and a historian. That means that I am in the business of telling and re-telling stories about things I never saw or participated in. And I've no moral problem with doing so.
The action and experience of those "on the line", however, is the exception. I'll be happy to pontificate on why generals might do things -- generals to me are a special variety of politicians, and I've read Clausewitz, Sun Tsu, and Harry Summers.
And I'm more than willing to discuss at length the insanities of war and the politicians who haven't.
But why you who wear the Purple Heart, or the CIB, or "just" the Bronze Star like my dad, do what you do, what you felt or feel. There I can only listen with all ears.
I've got no grounds for opening my mouth.
Not on the silence of the Wall, or of the Tomb of the Unknown, or the rows of white stones on green hills. Not on my dad's silence. And not on the rare occasions you find it possible to share.
Because....well, just because. My job is to be silent. No PhD will ever change that.
My job is to be silent. And listen.
Semper Fi.
And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.
Romans 12:2 (NKJV)