And how might we consider the long-term psychological or spiritual trauma that those who experience war so often suffer? I’m talking about those who died from substance use, excessive risk taking or the cumulative stresses of homelessness. Even if they were not killed in action, many no doubt were killed by action. Should we inscribe their names on war memorials as well? Their families’ grief, I promise you, is just as deep. Their wounds, though less visible, were as grievous.
Congress, for one, seems to be taking a more expansive approach to government responsibility for these long-term health consequences of military service.
Lawmakers recently expanded the Department of Veterans Affairs’ funding for suicide prevention programs. Congress also lengthened the list of health conditions presumed to be related to toxic exposures during military service, expanding benefits not only for veterans but also for surviving family members of those who died before these new benefits became law.
These widening notions of whom we honor, and how, are signs of progress — but they are just a start. After I came home from Iraq in 2004 and found myself a stranger in a country seemingly oblivious to war, I encountered a quotation from Gen. Douglas MacArthur that resonated with me deeply: “The soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.”
But today, for this Memorial Day, I wonder whether such a sentiment rings true.
I’m thinking about Ukraine, where Russian forces have tortured, raped and summarily killed men, women and children and have destroyed homes, hospitals, schools, power plants and churches. And Syria, where millions have fled their homes, spikes in poverty have led to hunger and a child’s life expectancy has declined by 13 years. And Sudan, where gun battles are taking place in residential neighborhoods, morgues are filling with bodies and the health care system is collapsing.