*** Trigger Warning: Mention of violence, war crimes ***
While in the National Guard (after two years in the Marine Corps), my platoon went on a weekend survival training exercise. For the evening meal we were provided live rabbits. I was hungry but could not bring myself to kill the rabbit. One of my friends killed it for me and, since I was hungry, dressed, cooked, and ate the rabbit. National Guard is different than 'real' military, and the man who killed the rabbit never called me a 'sissy,' never hesitated. He was a friend. In the 'real' military, I would have killed the rabbit before revealing any hint of weakness. Of 'sissiness.' I think that's what happened at My Lai. I think that's why only three men refused to butcher, and do worse things than butchering, hundreds of Vietnamese villagers. I believe many of them were good men who were afraid of being called 'sissies.' I often think about this because My Lai happened when I was in the 'real' military. I was a 'press information' pogue. One of my tasks was to read dozens of Sunday papers and cut out any article that referenced the Marine Corps and give them to the colonel in a scrap book on Monday morning. My Lai was Army. But I read the stories. Somehow, these two anecdotes are linked. Somehow, who I am is defined by them. Does anyone else have a story along a similar theme? How being a sissy reveals your strength and is not an epithet for weakness.