TALK THE TALK

The 1998 movie, “Saving Private Ryan” begins with D-Day in World War II on the beaches of France. The realism and feeling of peril is so powerfully portrayed I was swept up in it. How does that work; to lose oneself in a movie, to find yourself only to be pulled down that hole again and again? It is the only time a movie has ever done that to me. 

On a farm in the midwest a mother learns that three of her four sons have been killed in action. The 4th son, Private Ryan was part of the D-Day invasion. The Army decided that his family had sacrificed enough and ordered him to be withdrawn and sent home. The plot follows a squad of soldiers assigned to find him in the chaos of D-Day. I think it’s safe to say, the violence and inhumanity of war has never been replicated in a movie so convincingly, never. 

Afterwards, many of us simply sat in our seats and tried to decompress as the credits rolled. Two scenes at the end of the story put it all in perspective. After a skirmish, Private Ryan has been located and pulled out of action. The squad leader who saved him is shot by a sniper, he sits dying on the roadside but ministers to the young private, telling him that a great sacrifice has been suffered in order for him to survive the war. His brothers have been killed, several men in the squad who searched him out had died in the process. The squad leader puts a great burden of responsibility on the private. In so many words; “You must live a a worthy life. It has been paid for at a very high price. Now you must earn it!” Not worn out, patriotic talk but soldiers with names, the when and where of their fates; it brought all that weight to bear on one set of shoulders. 

Shortly, the movie leaps forward 50 years. As an old farmer, Private Ryan returns with his family to Normandy, to the cemetery where Capt. Miller, the man who charged him with that great responsibility lies buried. At the Captain’s grave the old Private Ryan breaks down, collapses and cries. He recounts the story of that day and begs his wife and sons, “Did I earn it?” He was looking for some kind of redemption, for a life that he might not have deserved, maybe not earned. I choke up thinking about that part of the movie.

My military experience came 15 years after D-Day, in the lull between Korea and Viet Nam but it was enough to appreciate the prospect of dying far from home, for a reason you did not own, may not even understood. I was never put in Harm’s Way, never engaged with an enemy. When my tour was up, I choose to go home. Some see war as a noble service to one’s country, others see it as pointless mayhem with no winners. I fell somewhere in between. 

In the young Private Ryan construct I don’t know how I would have reacted to war. I don’t know anyone who can know themselves that well. Now, age wise equal to the old Private Ryan I reflect on my life and wonder if I’ve earned it, the good life I enjoy. We are tribal animals and that need to belong, to identify and to protect our peers; it is hard wired into our nature. American culture requires of us that we live by a Puritan Ethic. It is sinful to enjoy benefits that you do not deserve. We put a lot of meaning and value onto what we deem, is or is not deserved. 

Tribalism is largely responsible for the rise of our species but I don’t think it is particularly beneficial in the present or for the future. I try to rise above it, identify first as a global citizen. Self serving competition is a double edge blade, maybe our worst nightmare. Still, I find myself begging the same question that haunted Private Ryan; do I deserve my good fortune, my good health, my network of precious friends and family? It still feels important to ruminate on that kind of emotional baggage but reason and logic tell me that it really doesn’t matter. If there is something to be learned from history it is that collectively, people talk the talk but don’t learn much from history.