Yahoo! is asking Americans how September 11 changed them. Below is an account from a reader.
My friend Tony often jokingly says, “you can come home now, B,” when I use military analogies to describe situations in our very civilian professional environment. Tony is intimately familiar with my combat experience and laughs when I say things like “John walked into the conference room, tossed a grenade and walked out,” to describe a staff meeting that went less than well. While we enjoy the back-and-forth of these humorous exchanges, we both know there’s more to our commentary than its comedic surface.
I have pondered Tony’s joke many times over the past year and concluded that he may be wrong. Figuratively speaking, I may never be able to come home from what I experienced as a soldier. I often wrestle with the fact that people are dead because of my actions, friends died in combat before I had the chance to say goodbye to them, and the camaraderie I shared with my brothers-in-arms may not exist in the civilian workplace. These realities mesh to form the lens through which I see the world today.
[Your story: How has September 11 changed you?]
I was a different person on September 11 at Alpha Battery headquarters when we received word that our nation was under attack. At least that’s what my grandmother tells me. She says I’m colder and hardened by the violence of war. She watched my grandfather go through similar changes after Vietnam.
Maybe Grandma’s right. There is no denying that I am a different person than the kid she remembers. I often feel out of place here in the “real world.” The Army taught me to value, trust and respect people-especially the people on my team. The Army also taught me that my men and the mission came before personal priorities. As a civilian, I’ve seen less of this philosophy in practice than I would like to admit and there have been times when I feel like my daily activities lack a significant purpose. Eight years ago in Iraq, my existence centered on keeping my men alive and returning home safely with them. My sense of purpose was well pronounced and kept me motivated. It’s hard to find that same drive off the battlefield.
In the midst of these changes, there are facets of my character that remain unchanged. I’ve retained my compassion for people and my desire to help those in need. The horrors of death and dodging bullets have helped solidify the joy I’ve always found in my family.
My existence no longer centers on protecting my men on the battlefield. Now, I am blessed with a wife and two children whom I’ve vowed to love and protect. Whether we’re enjoying dinner together or playing Xbox Kinect on rainy Saturdays, my wife and kids are a source of joy and purpose with which no war can compare.
The more I think about it, perhaps Tony wasn’t so wrong after all. Maybe my family is my ticket home.