Trauma memories do not go away, but they can be wrapped up and stored in a corner of your mind to collect dust. That way you’re better able to handle them when something revives the memory.
Some years ago, I was waiting for my car to be serviced, and there was this old guy, maybe 80, waiting with me. We were doing the usual guy small-talk stuff about the weather, cars, sports, when I mentioned the upcoming Army-Navy game. The old guy said he always rooted for Navy, and I asked him if he had served in the Navy.
“Marines.”
“Did you ever see any combat?”
After a long pause he said, “Yeh, Pacific, the big war.”
Marine? Pacific? The big war? Suddenly a train of associations entered my head and I asked, “Did you island hop in the second world war?” The old guy looked straight ahead, like he had gone off to some faraway place. His eyes began to tear up as he nodded and said softly, “Yeh.” After a long pause he added, “Lost a helluva lot of friends back there.”
I was speechless, and felt I was in the presence of greatness. If you don’t know about the Pacific island-hopping campaign (also known as the Atoll campaign) Google it. There were thousands upon thousands of American combat casualties as they went from island to island invading and rooting out entrenched Japanese soldiers from their bunkers and caves. Iwo Jima was one (over 6,000 US deaths), as was Okinawa (over 12,000 US deaths), and Tarawa (1,000 US deaths in a matter of hours). Watch the movie “Hacksaw Ridge.”
We just sat there in silence. I was horrified. Had I awakened painful memories for him? Mercifully, probably a minute later, which seemed like an eternity, the shop manager came in and called my name. I got up and extended my hand to the old guy, this hero, and said, ‘Thank you for saving our country.’ He just smiled and nodded, still looking off into that world from long ago.
