Quiver & Quill

great-grandpa joe in world war one

Originally uploaded by freeparking

I’m the first in my family to have not served in active duty in the military. My father served in the air force during Vietnam. My great uncle was wounded in Korea. My grandfather served two tours in World War Two. They have seldom shared their experience with me. And many people of their generation have had similar experiences. An entire generation of people who witnessed horrific things they seldom share.

So often my generation is defined by how we use technology to connect to each other—or they way we participate in a global economy. But how different we must be from the generations before us in what we haven’t seen or experienced. More than 16 million US troops served in World War Two: Every neighbor; every uncle; every prom king. And now I can count the number of solders I know on one hand.

I was reading an article in Business Week yesterday about solders using an MBA as a bridge to civilian life. I immediately thought of an Ivy League business classroom. To the left we have a super star performer, three years out of undergrad and with banking experience; to the right we have an experienced corporate executive, and in the middle of the class we have a former commander of 300 soldiers who three month ago was being shot at daily.

How does one go from warfare to case studies about corporate sales?

One of my favorite short stories about this is called Soldier’s Home by Hemingway. Krebs is a soldier who returns home years after his fellow soldiers. He misses the parades and the opportunity to tell stories that excite listeners. He is unable to adjust back to life and unable to feel any emotion, even love for his month. Let’s take a look:

“Is that all?” Krebs said.
“Yes. Don’t you love your mother dear boy?”
“No,” Krebs said.
His mother looked at him across the table. Her eyes were shiny. She started crying.
“I don’t love anybody,” Krebs said.
It wasn’t any good. He couldn’t tell her, he couldn’t make her see it. It was silly to have said it. He had only hurt her. He went over and took hold of her arm. She was crying with her head in her hands.
“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I was just angry at something. I didn’t mean I didn’t love you.”
His mother went on crying. Krebs put his arm on her shoulder.
“Can’t you believe me, mother?”
His mother shook her head.
“Please, please, mother. Please believe me.”
“All right,” his mother said chokily. She looked up at him. “I believe you, Harold.”
Krebs kissed her hair. She put her face up to him.
“I’m your mother,” she said. “I held you next to my heart when you were a tiny baby.”
Krebs felt sick and vaguely nauseated.
“I know, Mummy,” he said. “I’ll try and be a good boy for you.”
“Would you kneel and pray with me, Harold?” his mother asked.
They knelt down beside the dining-room table and Krebs’s mother prayed.
“Now, you pray, Harold,” she said.
“I can’t,” Krebs said.
“Try, Harold.”
“I can’t.”
“Do you want me to pray for you?”
“Yes.”
So his mother prayed for him and then they stood up and Krebs kissed his mother and went out of the house. He had tried so to keep his life from being complicated. Still, none of it had touched him.”
– Ernest Hemingway

50 years age a people experienced war first hand. What did they do with what they saw and experienced, how did they manage the memories, raise children, go into the work force and how did that shape our current society?

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