Growing up in the 60's, I wasn't against the military. I was against the war that sent them to injury and death.
They were mostly drafted. And so was I, so I was fortunate enough to enlist in the Coast Guard.
I already got my college degree, so I was suspected as being the ringer,the narc in boot camp (I sure wasn't)
Later, I got to meet people from all over. Officers with masters degrees in optics from University of Rochester, the boot whose pet skunk had hemorrhoids (or so he said, to avoid coming in to work), the machinist, who got me interested in mechanical stuff, the base photographer who developed film for free when he had a batch to do, the deer hunter from PA who a couple of us converted to a photographer (so he could shoot the same buck multiple times), the salty old Warrant Officer who was thrilled that I struck for a rating (Third Class Electrician's Mate) instead of going to a school for it, the guy who studied Zen with Suzuki Roshi in San Francisco who had been trying to get out for years, and finally got out when he decided to stay and convert the entire corps to Buddhism ...
Importantly, since I went in just as the war was ending (yeah, I'm lucky that way) I didn't send someone else to die in Vietnam in my place.
What one realizes in the service is that whether you're in a fighting unit or a life-saving unit, lives depend on you, and there's a certain humility that's engaged in that. Nobody's there to do your bidding like some legal slave. Lives are meaningful.
At one ceremony, the flag was being jostled in the breeze, so I got volunteered to hold it up. That meant something to me, not just a surrogate dick to wave.
I believe in karma, and entertain the notion that you come back as the person you treated the worst in this life. I therefore treat everyone with respect. Maybe they don't know any better when they go off the deep end, and maybe I should somehow, if I can, improve their lot and understanding.
Fucking golden rule. Universally ignored because it's "inconvenient".
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