As the remains of Hurricane Ida swirled around my rented townhouse, I lay in my double bed, alone except for two purring housecats.  It's 9 a.m. on Veterans' Day, 2009, and I've slept in because that's how I'm celebrating.  I start reading the copy of Slaughterhouse-Five that I checked out from my school's library. 

(In a fit of self-improvement, I've decided that, as an English teacher, I need to read every book on the school reading list that I have not yet read.  There are some, not many, and Slaughterhouse-Five was at the top of my list.  I figured the book had to be thought-provoking if it incurred the wrath of the close-minded townspeople in Footloose, the campy 80s movie in which Kevin Bacon brings dancing back to east Texas.)

While reading page one, I realized the irony of reading such a book--a patently anti-war book--on this holiday.  Here I had the day off from my job as a public school teacher, a job in which I teach American Literature and read such foundations of our nation as the "Declaration of Independence."  I'm alone and listless on this random Wednesday off because my boyfriend Odysseus, an officer in the Army, deployed to Iraq a few weeks ago.  He has been gone long enough for me to miss him and cry at odd moments (but only in my car, when particularly meaningful songs --like Elton John's "I guess that's why they call it the blues"-- come on the radio), but he has not been gone long enough for me to formulate a free-time routine that does not include him.  There is a big empty space in my life, and I do not yet know how to fill it.  Filling the space left by my boyfriend's deployment means I have accepted the unavoidable truth of his year-long absence.  And then part of me fears: what if I fill it with something that becomes too familiar, too wonderful, and then when Odysseus returns, there is no room left for him?   

So I sit and read a lot because that's what I've always done with my free time, even when Odysseus and I had free time together.  Both oldest children who had to learn how to quietly amuse ourselves, we both have similar childhood stories of reading voraciously, of solicitous parents taking books away from us at 5 a.m. after we'd been up all night reading.  I like that Odysseus is able--nay, was more than willing--to sometimes sit quietly and read, without demanding my attention constantly.  For me, a man's ability to sit quietly and read with me, while not being the sole focus of my attention, has been a dividing line between serious boyfriends and guys I just date.     

I was roused from my reading holiday by an unusual number of phone calls--parents, brother and sister all called me from various midwestern locations to see how I was doing on this day.  Several friends called or texted.  I'm fine, I'm not doing much today, just taking it easy. Getting some laundry done, grading some essays...   By evening I had the speech down pat.

There was a Veterans' Day parade in Savannah, where I live, and another in the town where I teach.  My students had admonished me to come to one or both parades, as many of them would be marching in their ROTC uniforms.  I had already decided I would not go to either parade.  I did not think I could deal, yet, with seeing a bunch of Army guys in their ACUs (Army Combat Uniforms, the current desert camo), unless one of them would be Odysseus, and it would not, and that would make me even sadder.  Some Army wives and girlfriends ignore the news because it makes them anxious; I follow the news, but this I knew I could not handle. 

And part of me would be jealous, or mad--those soldiers were here with their lucky significant others.  I wanted mine! 

Some people cannot make the distinction between supporting the troops and supporting the war.  But these tend to be people on whom important distinctions are lost, or ignored, or denied.  My belief is that engaging in war is one of the unfortunate things about being a democracy and protecting freedom.  Sometimes war is necessary.  Sometimes.

However, this does not mean that we have to blindly support every conflict that our government enters into.  I think it is plainly irresponsible to begin a war on bad intelligence, with little international support, and without an exit strategy.  Those planning our wars, the politicians and generals, owe it to the citizens and the soldiers to plan our wars well, and to ensure that our wars are fought for noble causes--for example, democracy and human rights.  Wars fought out of pride or greed--these wars disrespect our soldiers, they disrespect taxpayers, and most of all, they disrespect the ideals of democracy and freedom. 

Sometimes supporting the troops means being anti-war.  I don't want to see Odysseus spend another year of his life in a foreign country to fight an unjust war (he was already deployed to Iraq once before).  Odysseus doesn't disagree with all of the reasons for the war, but he does take exception with the way it's being fought--mostly with the waste he sees from the private contractors, and that the people who vote us into war so rarely are damaged by it themselves. 

This is what bothers me the most: that the real burdens of war are carried by those who are least likely to benefit from the spoils of this war.  I am not talking about my boyfriend and I here; Odysseus is an officer and although he was in combat the first time, now he has a relatively safe desk job.  I do not really have to worry that he won't make it home (of course, there is always that possibility.)  No, I am talking about the kids (yes, they are still kids, 18, 19, 20 years old) that were my students a few years ago and are now the enlisted soldiers who are on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan.  These are individuals whom our society sees as so immature, so needing of protection, that we won't let them belly up to the bar for a cold beer.  But we will ship them halfway around the world, put guns in their hands and tell them to fight.  (My students point this contradiction out at least once a week.)

But, you say, those kids fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan had a choice to sign up.   I used to say this myself, until I saw the stark reality of these kids' lives.  These are kids who grew up poor, with uneducated parents, or maybe a grandma or aunt or cousin raising them.  Sometimes their only meals are breakfast and lunch at school.  Nothing short of an all-expenses paid scholarship would allow them to afford college (and who gets that, except for very exceptional athletes?), if they can even surmount all the logistical hurdles--transportation, housing, the costs of moving to the college town, etc.  These lower-income kids have a choice between a crappy dead-end job (if they can even find that in this job market) and the military, who will spring for training and college after they've put their time in.  Our shitty economy and scant social programs ensure that we have plenty of cannon fodder. 

No, I didn't really enjoy my Veterans' Day.  Veterans deserve more than a holiday; they deserve politicians and generals that will only put them in harm's way for just and meaningful causes, and after every other alternative and diplomatic trick has failed. 

I'll enjoy Veterans' Day again when my boyfriend is home.  I'll enjoy it again when my students are no longer cannon fodder for the greed and selfishness of more privileged men.