Books for Iraq

My leave is rapidly coming to an end and my bookshelf is trying to jump into my duffel bag along with bike stuff I am bringing back to the land of dirt and gravel. Among the books going is an old copy of the The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan. I was up late one night and read the first act of "Pirates of Penzance." It's like reading Shakespeare (as opposed to seeing the performance of the play)--I don't have to strain my ears to catch the jokes delivered at auctioneer speed in a British accent. I can read at my own pace and not miss the jokes. "Hamlet" is also going back with me.

Ivan Amato's delightful book Stuff is going in my backpack for the long flight along with a volume of Orwell's essays. Malcolm Gladwell's Blink and CS Lewis' The Allegory of Love are in the duffel bag along with copy of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species. I am bringing Darwin in part because my wife just read me a few pages from How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie--the first great American self-help book in the 20th century and clearly an influence on every one of the tens of thousands of self-help volumes that followed.

Anyway, hearing Carnegie reminded me of CS Lewis' maxim that we should only read the commentators on a book after we have read the book itself. I recently read essays criticizing Carnegie, but had not read the book. After hearing just a few pages, he seems brimming with good sense and based much of the book on a long study of the life of Abraham Lincoln. So I will read his book before I listen to anymore criticism. Imagine if AM talk radio hosts had to actually deal with the reality of politics before they spoke on an issue. The silence would be deafening.

Back to Darwin. I have no quarrel with Origin since nearly every working scientist acknowledges his great insights, and blaming Darwin for misuse of his theory is as stupid as blaming Einstein for moral relativism. But I never read Darwin's great book, so I plan to amend that. I am also bringing The Road to Reality by Roger Penrose more as a reference book than something to read.

Food, Fiber, Friends and CS Lewis

Last week it became clear to me that the endless bounty of food at the DFAC (dining facility) was not providing me with enough fiber. So I went to the only store in town--the PX--and found that they sell every conceivable sugared snack, but no high fiber food. Coincidentally, I got an email from my 20-year veteran uncle asking if there is anything I need. I asked for a case of Grape Nuts cereal.

I was already eating the top five high-fiber foods on the web lists. Then I thought I could go on sick call. But that thought only lasted a second or so. I don't mind going on sick call for a bone spur or an acute illness, but the medical unit is mostly staffed by women in their 20s. So I did not want to go on sick call and explain my problem.

As usually happens when I think about human interactions for more than a minute, something from CS Lewis comes to mind. I remember reading in more than one of his essays that we are apt to judge a man as having a spiritual problem when he really just suffers from chronic indigestion. So rather than go on sick call, I asked for help from a nearly-50-year-old ex-Marine who sometimes sits in the DFAC and yells back at the TV news when "Liberals" are on. It turns out he has had digestive trouble for many years and had lots of good advice plus a huge stash of fiber supplements. And he was happy to share. I am going home in 11 days, so I will be able to go to a real store and get all the fiber that America has to offer, but in the meantime, I got by with a little help from my friend.

Gossip!

My roommate goes off in the evenings to spend time with two guys from his home town. The three of them deployed together before almost five years ago, but can happily spend an evening talking about things that have nothing to do with the Army or the current deployment.

He says the alternative to talking with each other is talking about each other. The main topics of conversation on deployment are home, complaints and gossip. And gossip quickly takes center stage. When people see each other as much as we do, we know each others foibles and weaknesses to a degree that is only possible in families in civilian life.

At this point, it's clear that simply mentioning some soldier's name will lead a group at dinner to groan, laugh or shake their heads depending on the person. And because it is such a close group, the comments circulate quickly. One one field exercise, I told my vehicle crew that I would not allow anyone to talk on cell phones inside the vehicle when we were waiting for instructions. It was raining off and on that day. The rest of the crew knew I made up the rule for only one soldier in the vehicle who would complain to his mother/girlfriend/(dog) at every halt if allowed. I heard comments with sly smile for a week after from soldiers who heard the rule I had made and were delighted that particular soldier was not allowed to drone on and make the rest of the crew suffer.

For those who would think gossip is optional, being part of the gossip also identifies one as part of an informal group. A group that when gossip when you are present considers you an outsider. If you hear "She's a f#$king idiot" when you are eating with five other soldiers, they are letting you in on their group opinion. To be outside the gossip is to be outside every informal network.

For those who would like to read the definitive essay on this subject cliques and who is on and out, the essay "The Inner Ring" in CS Lewis' book "The Weight of Glory" is wonderful on this subject.

Speaking of Snail Mail

I have an address at my new home:

Sgt. Neil Gussman
Co. E 2/104 GSAB
COB Adder T-1
APO.AE.09331

Just so you understand all the Acronyms and numbers, here is the address without abbreviations:

Line 1: Sergeant Neil Gussman

Line 2: Echo Company, 2nd Battalion / 104th General Services Aviation Brigade

Line 3: Combat Operating Base Adder T-1

Line 4: Army Post Office.Armed[Forces]Europe.[Zip Code]

If you would like to send something I would be happy to get snail mail. If you can't think of anything to write, one of the Chaplains wants me to start a CS Lewis reading group on post so if you have extra copies of Mere Christianity, The Great Divorce, God in the Dock, Till We Have Faces and The Weight of Glory, please send them. Or you can send them direct through Amazon.com.

Thanks.

Do You Remember in that Movie When. . .

I am soooo 20th century. Actually so early 20th century. I did no notice how culturally backward I was when I first rejoined the Army. Without knowing it, I surrounded myself with backwards people just like me who use books as cultural references. Not here. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, uses movies as the shared culture of their lives.

For the first month people tried to include me. They would say, "Sergeant G, do you remember in Wedding Crashers when. . ." Or "That's just like in that Jim Carey movie when they watched his whole life. Yo G, remember. . ." And I don't. No it's just a joke. Someone will start to say, "Do you remember. . ." then look at me and say "Right. Never mind."

I don't watch sitcoms, I don't watch comedy movies, I watch one or two movies per year. These guys go from room to room sharing gigabytes of DVDs on thumb drives and plug-in hard drives. One of my roommates has a terabyte drive full of movies and music. He is still mourning the loss of a second terabyte hard drive that crashed a few days after we arrived.

At home, my friends, co-workers and family all read books. Two nights ago I got an email from a friend, a college prof who had never been in the military. He was commenting on a post I wrote that the military is a meritocracy where everyone knows who is the best at everything, and the most competent people tend to take over whatever their rank.

My friend Ray said the military is a hierarchy and he couldn't believe what I wrote. So I called him and could remind him to read CS Lewis' essay "The Inner Ring" which begins quoting Tolstoy's "War and Peace" on the real rank structure of the military and the actual way things get done. With Ray, I can use books and essays to illustrate a point. I read to my own kids till they graduated high school and knew many of the books they read for classes, so even though I could not share movie culture with them, we had a lot of literature in common.

I brought some movies with me because everyone said I should. I haven't watched one yet. Maybe when we get to Iraq I will. In the meantime, it's seems OK for me to remain a cultural illiterate. I am old enough to get a pass. Right now I am in the back of the C Stairwell dayroom and a small room people forget about. I can sort of hear the drone of a TV movie through the walls, but I don't have to look at it.

Chicken Hawks

When I first enlisted there was a draft, and there were draft dodgers. Many people avoided the draft including a large segment who became conscientious objectors or pacifists during the draft and then flipped to become pro-military conservatives during the Reagan presidency and beyond. In the late 80s these past-service-age patriots came to be known as Chicken Hawks. Among their number are some current icons of patriotism like Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly. I know a lot of people who listen to these guys. It seems to me that a draft dodger's opinion on patriotism should carry the same weight as Gene Simmons views on abstinence.

So I reread my favorite writer CS Lewis. In particular, his essay "Why I am not a Pacifist." Lewis wrote the essay during World War 2. He was a twice wounded veteran of World War 1. He served in the trenches as an infantry lieutenant. Here's the end of his essay (He is speaking to a pacifist):

"Let us make no mistake. All that we fear from all the kinds of adversity, severally, is collected together in the life of a soldier on active service. Like sickness, it threatens pain and death. Like poverty, it threatens ill lodging, cold, heat, thirst, and hunger. Like slavery, it threatens toil, humiliation, injustice, and arbitrary rule. Like exile, it separates you form all you love. Like [jail], it imprisons you at close quarters with uncongenial companions. It threatens every temporal evil--every evil except dishonor and final perdition, and those who bear it like it no better than you would like it.

On the other side, though it may not be your fault, it is certainly a fact that Pacifism threatens you with almost nothing. Some public opprobrium, yes, from people whose opinion you discount and whose society you do not frequent, soon recompensed by the warm mutual approval which exists, inevitably, in any minority group. For the rest it offers you a continuance of the life you know and love, among the people and in the surroundings you know and love. It offers you time to lay the foundations of a career; for whether you will or no, you can hardly getting the jobs for which the discharged soldiers will one day look in vain. You do not even have to fear, as pacifists may have had to fear [during World War 1], that public opinion will punish you when the peace comes."

And in today's America, you can have your own talk show and declare yourself a patriot.

I liked John McCain's speech at the Republican National Convention, but I could not help wondering as the camera swept the crowd how this courageous survivor of five years in communist captivity felt looking out an the audience in front of him. The cameras lingered on veterans and famous people and young people, but that crowd is and has been for a couple of decades, the largest gathering of Chicken Hawks on the planet. So many men in that audience--rich, white, conservative men--between my age (55) and McCain's age (72) thought Viet Nam was the "wrong war." And they avoided it. Because of the draft, that meant a poor man--black, white, or hispanic--served in their place.

My Uncle Jack served from 1958 to 1982 in the Air Force. From the time I was five until the war ended he was flying over Viet Nam in a refueling plane or in an F-4 fighter jet. And when he wasn't in Viet Nam, it seemed like he was either home for a short visit or stuck in another garden spot like Thule, Greenland.

I have nothing against the consistent pacifists I know. They were against Viet Nam and are against the current war on principle. I disagree, but I respect their views.

But I cannot understand why the blustering buffoons of talk radio should be identified as patriots and even admired by conservatives.

Memorial Sunday

I spoke for five minutes during both services at my Church last Sunday--Wheatland Presbyterian in Lancaster. Most of the people in the Church found out I was going to Iraq by reading the Lancaster Sunday News article, so I thought it might be good for me to give some sort of update about what is going on in my life and with my family, the Army, etc. I also talked about why I joined and about getting deployed what I might be doing after we return. In Presbyterian Churches, we write things out. Here's what I said:

Serving Our Country, Serving Our Lord

For those who know me and know my family, they know without a doubt that the last year has been quite exciting—way too exciting for most people, to say the least. The excitement began on May 9 when I had a very bad bicycle racing accident. Just 54 weeks ago, Pastor Bruce was asking you to pray for me because I was in Lancaster General with a broken neck and many other injuries. The following Sunday and for a dozen Sundays thereafter, I worshipped Our Lord in a neck brace. Then on August 16th, out of the neck brace for a full two weeks, I re-enlisted in the Army National Guard after being a civilian for 23 years. In October my wife Annalisa and I decided to start the process of adopting a brother for our son Nigel—a process that is going on now. Then last month, I found out for sure that next February I will be deployed to Iraq with the 28th Aviation Brigade, Fort Indiantown Gap, PA.

Before I go further, I want you to know that everything that has happened to me in the last year has, according to Our Lord’s faithful promises, worked together for my good.

Some of you right now may be thinking I really must have whacked my head pretty hard in that accident. How can ten broken bones and orders for Iraq be blessings? I’ll admit, it’s not for everybody, but I have had the opportunity in the last year to see the limits of my faith, to test my courage, to test my resolve, and to live in daily dependence on others: on my family and my brothers and sisters here.

Most of us are divorced from the reality that the next life is just a moment away. I live vividly with that knowledge. We can all get used to the blessings we have and take them for granted. Beginning on May 2nd, my 55th birthday, I went through three weeks of Army training and for that three weeks slept in the same room with 40 other guys. Beyond all the other sounds you can imagine 40 guys making, all soldiers now have personal electronics of various kinds. War movies, heavy metal music, wrestling and horror movies played simultaneously until, thank the Lord, lights out. Of all men in this sanctuary this morning, I imagine I most appreciate the comforts of sleeping at home just now.

Because serving in the military means devotion to a greater cause and a willingness to give up freedom, it is easy to confuse patriotism with serving Our Lord. And, of course, on this Memorial weekend we honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice of patriotism, those who gave their lives for our country. But there is a great difference. We are told to pray for our leaders, not to worship them. As citizens, we serve our country in various ways, but we are not to idolize it. As in so many other areas of life, the truth is clearest to those who actually do things, and dimmest to those who simply look on.

The forty guys in my training group certainly qualify as patriots, but that is not the first purpose any of them is training to go to Iraq. They need a job, want money for education, want the adventure of going to a combat zone, or just want to try something different. They all know the sacrifice they could be making, but that is almost never a topic of conversation.

I am looking at the time I am spending in the Army as time that will help to make me a better and more willing servant of the Lord. Each one of us, whether in the barracks I just left, or in this sanctuary, is to a very large extent the sum of our habits. Last year when I was in the hospital as soon as I recovered my wits between bouts of pain, I wanted my cell phone and I wanted a latte. The worst pain was in my right arm so the addiction to email actually had three weeks off. In Iraq we will have limited phone and email privileges—no round the clock access. And I think it is safe to say I will not be drinking lattes, racing bicycles, and traveling on an expense account to the world’s greatest cities.

By the time I retire from working full time, I want to be ready and willing to serve the Lord. I want to be able to help in disasters, live in bad climates and not be looking back at the world I frankly love too much. The real service will be then when I am able to live in this world without being of this world. And the Army will help to take the glitter off the world while giving me, among other things, the kind of fellowship most modern men are dying inside without.

CS Lewis says—you didn’t think I was going to go five minutes without quoting CS Lewis did you? Lewis says we are fools to think our lives are our own, even to think our time is our own. I have spent a long time becoming that sort of fool, but with Our Lord’s help I am on the fast track back to seeing my time as not my own.

Good and Bad Press

The AP article about my wife being frugal is on more than 200 web sites so far. She got many emails from friends and strangers, most with congratulations, some with advice on how to be more frugal. One was nasty. It was also anonymous. The message ended with him saying the message had been routed through seven ISPs so don't try to trace it. So this coward went to all that trouble to say something ugly to a mother of four . CS Lewis said (following all the great Church leaders of the last 2000 years) that Pride is the worst sin. It is the sin that separates us from God, because a proud person is (in his or her own mind) God's equal. But in this life cowardice is the worst sin "horrible to anticipate, horrible in the act, horrible to remember" is how CS Lewis describes cowardice. And this particular coward uses the email address Jack_Ryan@lycos.com. Jack Ryan is the hero of the Tom Clancy novels. So this actual coward uses the name of a fictional hero to hide behind when threatening a woman who is a live organ donor (a kidney, 2002) and for several years a hospice volunteer. An illustrated dictionary could use a picture of this guy as the definition of a coward.

Running To. . .or From

I have been writing for months about what I see and what I do. Many of the questions I get from friends and family are about what the Army is like for me. But partly they are asking what is the Army like at all. Most of my co-workers and friends don't know a serving soldier except as an acquaintance or a cousin from somewhere else.

But today when I was tired and miserable from being up late and then watching the smoke roll out of the hotel where we are sleeping, I thought, "What happens when I get deployed, and I am up all night with something more serious than a kitchen fire? Can I handle that?" I had opposing urges to let my one-year enlistment run out and leave and to see a regular Army recruiter and volunteer for a tank unit.

I am in this to both run to what I believe is my eternal future and run from the life I have been leading. I don't mean my family. I mean the guy who over the past two decades has transplanted himself from high-school-educated soldier and Teamster (four years on the dock at Yellow Freight) to "communications professional." I have a lovely family, a big house, and have made more than 40 trips overseas on business in the past decade.

To paraphrase CS Lewis, I am in the world, but more importantly, the world is in me. I do love the world in a way that I did not when the world was a big, hostile, mysterious place. I joined the Army to run away from the privilege that has become part of my life. Eventually we will say to Our Lord, "Thy Will Be Done" or He will say the same to us and we will be eternally undone. And the life I have been living is increasingly dominated by my will. But the Army is the opposite. On duty, I do what I am told by whomever is in charge. I do what they say, when they say. I eat when the chow is available, or not. But I don't choose meal times or menus.

So I am running away from my love of this life and running toward the next, but it is already difficult at one weekend per month and now a two-week school. I have enough money to skip the mess hall when I want to. So I do. I am already equivocating and I am three days in to some of the lightest duty the Army has--a school. Just two weeks of beign clean, well-fed and learning about equipment.

My long-term plan is to get the training I need, go on active duty for a year, then live a simpler life making less money. No more expensive clothes, no more expensive food whenever I want. I still think it is the right thing to do. But I have to keep running. If I stop, I will turn back.