Dear Mr. President, I understand that you have some questions about why people serve and what's in it for them. Well, I can't speak for anybody but me, but perhaps my first-hand experience can offer you some insight, if not true understanding. I served 4.5 years on active duty in the US Coast Guard and when I left active duty to go to college, I remained in the active reserves. In November 1990, to my utter surprise, I was involuntarily activated for Desert Storm in the midst of my Fall Semester of my senior year in college. My initial orders were for 90 days, which I served in Galveston as a Small Boat coxswain. Our boat crews provided security to cargo vessels traversing the Houston Ship Channel loaded with military equipment and supplies headed for the Persian Gulf. It was the very antithesis of exciting or dangerous. As my involuntary orders were winding down, I was asked to volunteer for a brand new Port Security Directorate that the Coast Guard had formed in response
This is a confession and an explanation and a passive aggressive indictment of my friends. Read it or not, like it or not, this is my truth and however you choose to take it, I will manage. I’m angry. And I’m angry about being angry. Being angry about what I’ve experienced means that it matters to me, and I’ve spent my life determined for it not to matter. If it matters, then it means they got to me; that they have power over me; that I’m weak; that I’m pathetic. I am surprised at the depth and breadth of my anger, and I am still desperate to stuff it down; to ignore it; to deny it; to detach myself from it. When I’m detached, I can rationalize why it shouldn’t matter; why they are the pathetic ones; why they are the ones to be vilified and despised. When I’m angry, I'm trapped between rage and shame. I was devastated when Trump was elected. And I’m not one to be “devastated.” I’m not sure I even understood what it meant until Trump. It deconstructed me in a w