A conflict involves many facets, many of which unpleasant and detestable.
Take war, for example. In Saving Private Ryan, we found that our Capt. had taught English composition in his civilian life. But in war, he had to carry out orders and complete his mission, in this case, to put it ironically, “humanitarian”.
They packed a lot in that 3-hour movie. But we can deduct from history that, cyclically, humanity is due for a humongous conflict that turns into warfare every generation (even when people average age now reaches 77).
The kiss in NYC, now iconic, will come few and far in between.
The dead cannot speak for themselves. They just rot.
And young men/women continue to be sent to the front, well-wished; but loved ones always collapsed when seeing the uniforms knocking on the door.
Such as the costs of war to those “born on the 4th” or the 5th, to those who lost 3 brothers hence got a ticket home, or those, like myself, the youngest left (to burn the incense when and if my medic brother were killed).
I don’t like war. I detest it. I hate it. Yet it defines me, deforms me and destroys me in some small and big ways. Not to the extent of slapping PTSD on me, but it displaced me, uprooted me and re-composed me.
Unlike Colonel Loan who executed the VC terrorist in Saigon broad daylight (and went on making pizzas for a living), I, on the other hand, have tried hard to articulate my P.O.V.: should I turn pacifist completely, or should I vote for baby-killers? Take up arms or plowshares? How could I go on living a full, productive and giving life with what’s left of me!?!
Those WWII vets who march this 6th of June (bless how many who are left) are walking testimonials of a costly and well-ended war, a just war and a testimony to brave and mythical humanity. A humanity you and I deserve to belong to and should celebrate via our action often. Oh well, back then, they couldn’t help and we couldn’t blame the Navy dude to “seal it with a kiss”. What a peace-time kiss! Almost like a kiss in Casablanca, “without a sigh”