With Remeberance Day (or Veteran's Day for my American friends) fast approaching I thought that the following would be appropriate.
The Centre for Military and Strategic Studies at the University of Calgary does not appeal to all students. But some are more interested in war studies than peace studies. For them, the interest and focus they bring to class ensures an enormously fulfilling experience, particularly for us who teach them.
Ryan Flavelle is a student. Like several others, he is also a member of the military. Unlike his colleagues, he has written a riveting book. It deals with his service in the southern Panjwaii district, Kandahar province, Afghanistan.
Flavelle’s motives for writing The Patrol: Seven Days in the Life of a Canadian Soldier in Afghanistan were both universal and personal. Like every historian from Thucydides to the present, he wanted to ensure the memory of the immediacy of his experiences would not be lost in oblivion. But the personal side of his story is far more compelling.
Flavelle spent the best part of seven months attached at the hip, as he said, to the officer commanding Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry. The Patricia’s have won battle honours unequalled in Canadian military history. They lived in a universe far different from what Flavelle had previously known as a self-described nerd in 746 Communication Squadron. This was his reserve outfit; he was chiefly concerned with repairing radios.
Many of his accounts echo those found in other modern war memoirs. The army can’t promise you food, water, or sleep, “but it can promise you someone by your side.” He explains why soldiers swear so much and crack jokes, and why the jokes are inseparable from the obscenities. Vulgarity strengthens “the pack” because “war is not, after all, an environment known for its refinement.” Masculinity, chauvinism and vanity are all part of the makeup and outlook of the average infantry soldier (male or female, but especially male). Such attitudes sustained the soldiers through the suffering and unpleasantness that constitutes most of infantry life and were reinforced by the adrenalin-fuelled joy of action. And then there is the absurdity of army regulations; when they are enforced in comparative safety by rear-echelon martinets, they “become tantamount to insanity.”
Flavelle’s most searing recollections emphasized a novel reality. Nothing, he said, “can prepare you for the reality of bloody, concussive warfare.” Some excel at it and love it, and they are warriors. Others, Flavelle included, “are fated not to be warriors.”
But, he added, “I have the consolation that I have walked with them . . . . I will never be a warrior, but I have known war . . . . I am happy to say that on that hot, dusty day in Afghanistan, I stood among Canadian warriors, ready to do my job.” In the company of such people “everything was real.” This was new.
At the heart of a warrior’s love, Flavelle discovered the reality of “the patrolling spirit,” which he had once dismissed as an obsolete academic notion. Fundamentally, it is “a desire to be there.” Granted, it is a strange desire to want to walk “an IED-infested riverbed,” but soldiers know that, once there, they can either want to be there or not. If you choose the second, “it doesn’t change where you are or reduce your stress. It only makes the road much longer.”
Soldier discovers he’ll never be a warrior
The Centre for Military and Strategic Studies at the University of Calgary does not appeal to all students. But some are more interested in war studies than peace studies. For them, the interest and focus they bring to class ensures an enormously fulfilling experience, particularly for us who teach them.
Ryan Flavelle is a student. Like several others, he is also a member of the military. Unlike his colleagues, he has written a riveting book. It deals with his service in the southern Panjwaii district, Kandahar province, Afghanistan.
Flavelle’s motives for writing The Patrol: Seven Days in the Life of a Canadian Soldier in Afghanistan were both universal and personal. Like every historian from Thucydides to the present, he wanted to ensure the memory of the immediacy of his experiences would not be lost in oblivion. But the personal side of his story is far more compelling.
Flavelle spent the best part of seven months attached at the hip, as he said, to the officer commanding Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry. The Patricia’s have won battle honours unequalled in Canadian military history. They lived in a universe far different from what Flavelle had previously known as a self-described nerd in 746 Communication Squadron. This was his reserve outfit; he was chiefly concerned with repairing radios.
Many of his accounts echo those found in other modern war memoirs. The army can’t promise you food, water, or sleep, “but it can promise you someone by your side.” He explains why soldiers swear so much and crack jokes, and why the jokes are inseparable from the obscenities. Vulgarity strengthens “the pack” because “war is not, after all, an environment known for its refinement.” Masculinity, chauvinism and vanity are all part of the makeup and outlook of the average infantry soldier (male or female, but especially male). Such attitudes sustained the soldiers through the suffering and unpleasantness that constitutes most of infantry life and were reinforced by the adrenalin-fuelled joy of action. And then there is the absurdity of army regulations; when they are enforced in comparative safety by rear-echelon martinets, they “become tantamount to insanity.”
Flavelle’s most searing recollections emphasized a novel reality. Nothing, he said, “can prepare you for the reality of bloody, concussive warfare.” Some excel at it and love it, and they are warriors. Others, Flavelle included, “are fated not to be warriors.”
But, he added, “I have the consolation that I have walked with them . . . . I will never be a warrior, but I have known war . . . . I am happy to say that on that hot, dusty day in Afghanistan, I stood among Canadian warriors, ready to do my job.” In the company of such people “everything was real.” This was new.
At the heart of a warrior’s love, Flavelle discovered the reality of “the patrolling spirit,” which he had once dismissed as an obsolete academic notion. Fundamentally, it is “a desire to be there.” Granted, it is a strange desire to want to walk “an IED-infested riverbed,” but soldiers know that, once there, they can either want to be there or not. If you choose the second, “it doesn’t change where you are or reduce your stress. It only makes the road much longer.”
Near
the end of his weeklong patrol, Flavelle discovered that he did not
want to be there. “It was a sobering experience and gave rise to a long
process of self-reflection.” But it was not his last patrol. Rather, it
was an occasion to understand how fatigue, exhaustion and danger can
struggle with pride, strength and courage.
Flavelle came to understand that we live in a society that has been baby-proofed for adults. We think we deserve to be secure. His experience in Afghanistan exploded that delusion and several others. In reality, “there is no way to know which choice will end in safety. There is nothing to prevent you from walking down the wrong road; in fact, you may be ordered to.”
Flavelle wondered more than once about how to integrate his life as a student and his life as a soldier. He made a start by writing a brilliant book.
Barry Cooper is a University of Calgary political science professor. His column appears every second Wednesday
Flavelle came to understand that we live in a society that has been baby-proofed for adults. We think we deserve to be secure. His experience in Afghanistan exploded that delusion and several others. In reality, “there is no way to know which choice will end in safety. There is nothing to prevent you from walking down the wrong road; in fact, you may be ordered to.”
Flavelle wondered more than once about how to integrate his life as a student and his life as a soldier. He made a start by writing a brilliant book.
Barry Cooper is a University of Calgary political science professor. His column appears every second Wednesday
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That's a good piece, Deb. Thanks for posting it.
ReplyDeleteWV: vilig. Lewis Carrol! Well, almost.
Thanks Deb
ReplyDeleteNice post Deb, thanks. I look forward to reading the book.
ReplyDelete