War Stories

                                          

 

Two recent news items about the war in Ukraine caught my attention. The first was about a 58-year-old Ukrainian sniper who had just killed a Russian soldier who was 2.5 a miles away.  He claimed the shot set a new world’s record as if it were an Olympic event. He was depicted with his rifle and spotter sitting on a couch somewhere. I wonder what the deceased soldier’s mother, wife, or sweetheart thought of the killing. It sounds like murder but how can we possibly understand the hatred Ukrainians feel for Russians, especially after the Soviet induced famine of the 1930s? 

A couple of days later, a second article appeared about Russian criminals released from prison to serve in the Ukraine war. If they agree to serve on the battlefield for six months, they can return home, and their sentences are commuted.  Apparently, if they survive, many return to their life of crime. One even murdered six people and burned down the house in which they resided.

It would appear that the Russian army has been seriously depleted by the struggle since they have to recruit convicted criminals. Mohammed Ali was the most famous American who refused to fight in the Vietnam war, but many chose to avoid the draft or even leave the country rather than go to war. I suspect that this is happening in Russia today and that many young men are seeking to flee the country. Reports indicate that some have even made it to our southern border.

As the saying goes, “War is Hell” but many commentators on both sides seem to regard it as a game that can be won or lost. The Biden administration is pressing for billions of dollars of military aid for Ukraine, but I am sure that no one in the Administration would be willing to tote those weapons on an actual battlefield. It is always the young men on both sides who will bear the burden and face the horror.

Lawrence Kirby

 

Speaking of young men, I have been reading Lawrence Kirby’s Stories from the Pacific, a book about his experience as a young Marine in World War II. I was told about this book by my brother-in-law Richard Gardella who knew Larry Kirby briefly before the former Marine died at the age of 99 in a Senior residence. The stories in Kirby’s book are a real eye opener and at times extremely heart rending. 

In one especially moving chapter he describes one incident that took place while fighting in the jungle of the island of Guam. He was on a scouting mission when suddenly he came upon a young Japanese soldier about 20 feet away. Their eyes met in stunned silence but after a brief pause the Japanese hurled a grenade and Kirby rushed him and opened fire. Kirby was wounded by the grenade shrapnel, but the Japanese soldier was dead. Kirby never forgot that tragic experience. Years later he wrote this poem.

I met a youthful enemy 

My fear reflected in his eye

I loathed him not, nor did he me

But we must fight and one must die.

No longer boys but not yet men

Just sad young soldiers sick with fright

Flag and face our difference then

One’s timeless sleep would come that night

Panic grew with every breath

I had to kill, I had to try.

Why do I seek a stranger’s death?

With vain despair I wondered why?

I could be his friend, not foe

Such wish was true, not foolish whim.

The brave, young lad will never know.

With tragic skill I murdered him.

Long years have passed since when he fell

My heart still aches, no sense of pride.

Though I seem here I live in hell.

On that cruel day I also died. *

Lawrence Kirby believed that soldiers did not like to talk about their experiences mainly because no one would believe how horrible war could be for the young men who actually fought. He wrote, 

The ultimate desecration of the human spirit is the conscious activity of cruel inhumanity, predicated and justified—at least in the minds of those who sent us—as noble and patriotic duty, a privilege and responsibility accepted willingly by only the brave, offering their lives in this crusade and, further, willing to kill other equally brave and misguided young men in the cause of patriotism and in the name of duty…. (53)

My war ended with Iwo Jima. I was one of the very lucky few to survive the terrible bloodshed. It was my last campaign, thank God. The killing, the screaming, the torn bodies, the shattered limbs the suffering—it had become too much to handle! There were times when I thought I would welcome death. Ending the terror seemed more important than living. (56)

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*Lawrence F. Kirby: Stories from the Pacific. P. 102