The Devils of the Mind after Discharge
by Veterans Day is a time to give thanks to someone who took the time to serve the cause of freedom. Sometimes we forget what a war costs beyond the dollars and cents the bean counters push around. They faced bullets and bombs, and end up being no match for red tape.
It is Veterans Day; a day we set aside to collectively honor those who have served this country in the armed forces. It is also a day in which most PBS stations around the country will broadcast at least one program dedicated to those who have served so admirably.
“Iwo Jima: Black Sand, Red Blood” was tonight’s heart wrenching documentary done in a mix of black and white and color films, in addition to many emotional interviews of the men who lived through the battle. I listened intently to their stories, sitting on the edge of my chair as if they were right across the kitchen table from me. If someone recalls Iwo Jima, the lasting image in their mind is that of the Marines raising the flag – it meant more to that generation than our generation could possibly understand or appreciate.
Tears flowed down my face as these men shared their stories of the battle. One man had the chin strap shot off his helmet while he was wearing it. Several recounted standing or laying on the ground next to someone who was shot in the head. One man recalled a buddy telling him how he had been “splattered with someone’s guts”. The man who touched me the most recounted a story of being cold and soaking wet, and finding a fellow Marine dead, but dry. He stripped off the dry clothing and switched with his wet uniform. His eyes went dead and his voice trembled as if God was patiently waiting to sentence him to hell for it. You could see the regret clearly all over his weary, flushed face.
As a viewer trying to describe the emotions running high, I find myself getting choked up.
They described looking around for war trophies. A small sack of gold teeth from Japanese men they didn’t consider human beings. One who opened a wallet to be confronted with portraits of the dead Japanese solider with his wife and child as well as his parents (he put the wallet back). Another man described a friend who started the practice of cutting off and collecting ears when he was on Guam. Many years have passed, but the memories are unfortunately still vivid for the men who returned home. Several men admitted they had never told their families of their time on Iwo Jima as much as they had confessed to the interviewer. It felt like something between unburdening one’s soul in confession, and the desire to tell the awful truth in the hopes the next war would make people stop and think.
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