Sneak home and pray you'll never know
- I Knew a simple soldier boy
who grinned at life in empty joy
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark
And whistled early with the lark
...
Siegfried Sassoon, "Suicide in the Trenches"
When I first enlisted I refused to refer to my army-issued items as "mine"-- not "my" bunk, not "my" field pack, not "my" helmet; so I could pretend that all these things were only temporarily passing through my hands, that I was not really in possession of these things: in the same way, I could pretend that the military life was equally transient; after all, if the physical things belonged to somebody else (not me, I just happened to be using it), surely the rest of it wasn't really happening to me? I remember remarking to somebody, at the end of BMT (when I had long given up trying to maintain that fiction), that even after becoming a "traiiineeed soldier!" I still felt as alienated by the army as I had been at the start, so even though I was referring to the physical objects as "mine" I still did not feel that they belonged to me, like the Commander 'fucking' the Handmaid in The Handmaid's Tale -- "yeah his penis is entering my body but it's like it's happening to a different person, I'm just going to close my eyes and dream of england" (my goodness such foul language in my blog this may be a first)
Less than a 100 days left to ORD, and the feeling remains. It's evident in the way we talk amongst ourselves: always, civilian life is described as 'real life' 'in reality' 'army is army, outside is outside'.... post-ORD plans are prefaced with 'when i get my life back''in the real world'... as if for these two years we have temporarily suspended operations, hung a CLOSED BE BACK IN TWO YEARS sign outside our shop windows then start again as if nothing has happened. It's more like we have split ourselves into two: one of our selves books in, charges up the hill, suffers under and perpetuates unjust systems, swears liberally, scolds people... this is our army self. our fake self. Our real self awaits the day of ORD, where it will emerge, ready to pick up where we left off, meanwhile we close our eyes and dream of england. Like Rip van Wrinkle, though, will we wake up to find that the world has changed beyond recognition? However much we may try to deny it, we are not simply falling asleep, even if we are living a dream, this dream is the only reality we have, now, it will change us, reside in us,(this scares me) forever live in our bones and your heart. Will I ever be able to scrub the poison from my veins? Like a butterfly that emerges from its cocoon stuck in a bell jar, will my wings forever be constrained by its shape, even when I am, finally, free?
who grinned at life in empty joy
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark
And whistled early with the lark
...
Siegfried Sassoon, "Suicide in the Trenches"
When I first enlisted I refused to refer to my army-issued items as "mine"-- not "my" bunk, not "my" field pack, not "my" helmet; so I could pretend that all these things were only temporarily passing through my hands, that I was not really in possession of these things: in the same way, I could pretend that the military life was equally transient; after all, if the physical things belonged to somebody else (not me, I just happened to be using it), surely the rest of it wasn't really happening to me? I remember remarking to somebody, at the end of BMT (when I had long given up trying to maintain that fiction), that even after becoming a "traiiineeed soldier!" I still felt as alienated by the army as I had been at the start, so even though I was referring to the physical objects as "mine" I still did not feel that they belonged to me, like the Commander 'fucking' the Handmaid in The Handmaid's Tale -- "yeah his penis is entering my body but it's like it's happening to a different person, I'm just going to close my eyes and dream of england" (my goodness such foul language in my blog this may be a first)
Less than a 100 days left to ORD, and the feeling remains. It's evident in the way we talk amongst ourselves: always, civilian life is described as 'real life' 'in reality' 'army is army, outside is outside'.... post-ORD plans are prefaced with 'when i get my life back''in the real world'... as if for these two years we have temporarily suspended operations, hung a CLOSED BE BACK IN TWO YEARS sign outside our shop windows then start again as if nothing has happened. It's more like we have split ourselves into two: one of our selves books in, charges up the hill, suffers under and perpetuates unjust systems, swears liberally, scolds people... this is our army self. our fake self. Our real self awaits the day of ORD, where it will emerge, ready to pick up where we left off, meanwhile we close our eyes and dream of england. Like Rip van Wrinkle, though, will we wake up to find that the world has changed beyond recognition? However much we may try to deny it, we are not simply falling asleep, even if we are living a dream, this dream is the only reality we have, now, it will change us, reside in us,(this scares me) forever live in our bones and your heart. Will I ever be able to scrub the poison from my veins? Like a butterfly that emerges from its cocoon stuck in a bell jar, will my wings forever be constrained by its shape, even when I am, finally, free?