Thank You For Your Service – A Guest Blog by Veteran Daniel Vores

Thank You For Your Service – A Guest Blog by Veteran Daniel Vores

Thank you for your service.

When I hear that, I cringe inside. Often these words are accompanied by a sincere smile as I’m handed my coffee (and accept the 10% Veteran’s Discount). I know that the words are intended to give support – a verbal hug. So I say nothing and smile. I appreciate it. It still hurts. I can’t explain why. It just does. It’s those moments when I remember the stinging words of my Company Commander: Suck it up, Buttercup!

It’s difficult to find a veteran that doesn’t share this same discomfort. We’re all Buttercups, in our own special way.

When I joined the US Navy, like many young people attracted to military service, I sought adventure and a respected path towards Manhood – whatever that was. I had a desire to serve; to somehow contribute to a better world. Perhaps even find a purpose while at it. I was Made-to-Order; as young and naive as those smiling faces on the recruitment posters. When that fast-talking Navy recruiter walked into my high school, I was caught dead to rights.

Over the course of my six years, I would experience abuse fostered by a culture run amok. One that would lord over me in my head at every turn. As the years flowed, I found it hard to do even ‘normal’ things without hearing screaming disapproval within me.

The darker thoughts would come later.

Although my memoir Class 8604 goes more in depth, I think it’s appropriate to share a moment to help illustrate my meaning. Such moments leave an imprint, like the whisper of a nightmare, throughout my life.

My first day reporting to Nuclear Power School in Orlando, FL, I stepped into the head (bathroom). Walking in, I was struck by the sight of a gaunt, shallow-faced sailor staring at himself in the mirror. I walked past, trying not to stare. Moments later, his scream startled me as it echoed throughout the tiled bathroom. Bits of shattered mirror crashed onto the floor. Moaning and sobbing, he fell to his knees and began hacking away at his arms with bits of glass like a madman. I was shocked.

I’ll never forget how stark his bright red blood pooled against that sterile, white floor tile.

In my young mind, I couldn’t conceive how anything could possibly be so bad as to try and kill yourself. How little did I know.

While section leader in class 8604, the daily pressure from my section chief was immense. Forced 4 hour marches each Saturday. Forced weekly room inspections guaranteed to fail. Minimum 85+ hour work weeks. Anything my section chief’s cruel mind could conjure up.

The sleep deprivation was punishing. My fogged mind made nearly impossible the study of complex, sensitive material. Alcohol became my lover. I was dying inside. Dying to learn.

This cruelty repeated itself. Over and over. For six inescapable months.

Over time, the memories of how this unchecked, cruel behavior contributed to that poor sailor’s suicide attempt festered. The memories of all those suicides while in ‘the hardest training program in the US military’ dug at me. Like many traumatized veterans, I suppressed them. How could I possibly explain the unexplainable? The unimaginable? Eventually, when most vulnerable, these dark thoughts would claw their way up to the bloody surface. It was always ugly when they did.

Almost daily now, I get emails from other nukes who share their stories with me. One had a room mate who cut himself so badly he was ejected from the program. Like me, he’s still haunted by the sight. Another shared how he is awaked at night with memories of having witnessed severe mental breakdowns… and the fear that he would be next.

They’re not alone.

I now understand the seductive call of ending it all. How naive I truly was.

Suck it up, Buttercup. Indeed.

Perhaps it’s just some misplaced shame we vets may feel when we’re thanked for our service? Some deep-seated guilt with no bearing in reality? There must be some explanation, right? Some connection for all those suicides even long after our contracts have been honored. Right?

According to the 2020 census, 6.2% of Americans are veterans, yet attribute to 13.7% of all suicides nationally (over 32,000 veterans killed themselves from 2015 – 2019, with 6,261 in 2019 alone). This is a rate of 17 veterans taking their own lives every day. Some figures suggest the number is actually higher (22 per day dying by their own hand).

A rate over double ‘the norm’. Why? Sadly, the numbers have been stable for decades.

The curve holds true in our active duty community. The national suicide rate (2020 figures) is 13.5/100,000 people. It’s 28.7/100,000 among active duty. More than double the national rate. Again.

Suck it up, Buttercup. Indeed.

Focusing on the US Navy: as of July, 2023, there have been 45 suicides so far this year. Four suicides just in the month of July! There were 59 suicides in 2021. 70 in 2022. Current trends suggest 2023 will be a banner year for Navy suicides.

This clearly toxic military culture not only sets the stage for suicides (and a lifetime of mental anguish), but rewards the most toxic among them to positions of leadership. These misguided promotions all but guarantee such abuse continues. All under the guise of “serving our country”.

So when I’m thanked for my ‘service’, I cringe inside. I remember the misogyny. I remember the cruelty. I remember the senseless loss of life.

And I remember the secrets.

Herein lies your strength; your power. The power of your Voice. The power of the Collective.

If you want to thank a veteran, speak out for them. Stand up for them. Care for them.

Contact your elected officials. Challenge them to put an end to the toxic culture of the US military. Challenge them to take decisive action to curb the skyrocketing suicide rates among our veteran community. Among our active duty. Demand an end to the cruel abuse. Demand an end to the masochistic machismo that is the US military culture. Demand a change. Loudly. Courageously.

Just like a Warrior would.

Support your veterans by refusing to serve until such changes takes place. Period.

There’s only one thing any veteran could possibly say to such public support:

No. Thank. You.

 

 

byline

 

Dan Vores is a US Navy veteran who has spent the majority of his working life in public service. He is currently focusing on his writing, a life-long hobby. When he’s not clicking away on his next writing project, he enjoys reading, pretending he’s an ultra-marathoner on his treadmill, and serving His Royal Highness, Tommy the Cat.

 

His memoir, Class 8604, about his experience while a student in the USN’s Nuclear Power Training Program, is available here on Amazon.

 

You can contact the author at: nucstories@gmail.com.