Essay:Love the Soldier, Hate the War

I am one of those pricks that thinks many soldiers are heroified murderers. That's a very rash way to put it, but, semantically, how is that wrong? If you agree with these:

1. Soldiers are heroified in our media.

2. Many soldiers commit murder. (regardless of whether you believe it's justified or not)

then you agree, from a solely semantic stance, that many soldiers are heroified murders. But semantics mean nothing.

But don't misunderstand me, I completely understand that they're out on the battlefields risking their lives daily for my freedom not to fight, and I respect them completely for that. I love soldiers. They're great. But…

I hate the whole nationalistic hatred that is always abundant during times of war like a black plague epidemic. We're the good guys, fighting for justice, truth, freedom, and all that good stuff, against the evil terrorists, protagonist vs. antagonist. So, imagine with me a pre-battle pep-talk on the evil terrorist side in the mind of a true believer in this false dichotomy:

"Alright, we need to charge into the battle field and brutally murder anyone we see, be it babies (not that I know what a baby would be doing on a battle field), children, mentally disabled, handicapped, women, fellow evil minions, or evil mentally disabled and handicapped female infants. Don't forget what we're fighting for: corruption, death, horror, and deceit!"

No. Of course not. They think they're fighting for exactly the same thing that our soldiers think they're fighting for. They have children and wives and friends and pets and lives at home too, they're just as human as the rest of us. If anything, at least notice that there is no good or bad, no wrong or right, just us and them.

I would love to see rival politicians beat the shit out of each other, as opposed to sending out young, potent men and women to die for them.

I love our soldiers, I just hate our wars.

"Politicians hide themselves away, they only started the war.

Why should they go out to fight? They leave that up to the poor."

- Black Sabbath, "War Pigs"

"Us, and them,

And after all we're only ordinary men.

Me, and you,

God only knows it's not what we would choose to do.

Forward he cried from the rear and the front rank died.

And the general sat and the lines on the map moved from side to side.

Black and blue,

And who knows which is which and who is who.

Up and down,

And in the end it's only round and round.

'Haven't you heard its a battle of words?' the poster bearer cried.

'Listen son,' said the man with the gun, 'There's room for you inside.'

Down and out,

It can't be helped that there's a lot of it about.

With, without,

And who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?

Out of the way, it's a busy day, I've got things on my mind.

For want of the price of tea and a slice, the old man died."

- Pink Floyd, "Us and Them"