In the midst of war it seems that it is native to most the nonchalance regarding the humanity and life of both our own troops and our adversaries. Anti-nation sentiment has subdued our want to understand the humanness of soldiers. Simply with regard to the knowledge of the fate of war, which in our simple and inexperienced mind is merely “patriotism, possible death, and pain,” our sympathy (and perhaps, pride) is not commensurate with the true sympathy and pride that we should have for our troops. Watching the movie “We Were Soldiers Once and Young” opened my eyes immensely. Although the movie did not allow its viewers the full effect of war, it was an effective movie in cluing me in on the true aspects of war.
As a staff writer for the newspaper, the journalists preying on the American soldiers, when the soldiers had just finished their battle, upset me. In light of the moment, journalists needed to be more understanding of the soldiers. Galloway, however, the only journalist whom experienced the war – shot the rifle, killed the man, defied death, heard the sounds, saw the sights, stared them down, bore through the night, and escaped the enemy – is, in turn, the only credible man that could truly say “we commemorate these soldiers and pray for them. They fought and died in a treacherous battle to serve and bring honor to our country,” and, likewise, the only one who could say it with genuine conviction.
While watching this movie, I jerked at gunshots and death and casualties, hand-to-mouth gestures expressing my fear and sympathy. What truly brought out my emotion during the film, however, was watching the countenances of men and their apprehension and anticipation of death in battle, their last sputter of life, and their words as they pleaded for their wives to know that they love them - even the enemy, whom died with just as much love. I connected with the wives whom heard of their deceased counterparts, and the slow motion did the film well for connectivity. I turned from the screen through a part of it and cried quietly, and couldn’t bear to watch the ensuing scenes. I turned back after a minute or two and stayed with it, understanding that this is life… and this is death.
But what I couldn’t bear even more was the sporadic laughter coming from classmates.
1 comment:
What I call the "human connection" is the best aspect of "We Were Soldiers." Many films convey the story. If viewers connect, great, if not, at least they paid to see it. But "We Were Soldiers" makes it almost impossible not to connect with the actors, who we begin to view as American soldier, not simply men "playing" American soldiers. In addition to the moving performances, the constant cuts from war to home, back to war again, reminds viewers that the gunshots, explosions, blood, and violence do not stand alone in time. At the same moment there is someone across the globe doing something as mundane as vacuuming. And better yet, in a matter of seconds, not only does the loss of soldier affect the war, but it also affects those back at home.
The laughing of your classmates further illustrates the fact that war is so foreign to us Americans. We have become complacent in our relative peace and our complacency has led to unsympathetic responses to those that respond to loss in unpredictable ways (remember how few understood why the girl was dancing in "Style"). It hurts me to witness how my students react to violence with either laughter or a shrug of shoulders.
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