S.E. Ruckman: Esteeming the brave is a like a pattern welded into our DNA

At first, President Obama’s mid-point progress in Indian Country was on the menu. Yet when I began my research, I heard that one of my uncles was now in a nursing home.  Since he was a veteran and a career soldier, it gave me pause for thought.

My uncle was a gunner in the Vietnam War. After he came home, he was never the same-like many suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) before there was officially a disorder.  He recounted his various and dubious military duties at Thanksgiving at the drop of a hat. While it made us uncomfortable, somehow we knew the casual interlacing of these experiences was therapeutic for him.

At one time, bringing this conflict up ensured a frothy, hot-blooded discourse on human rights, morality and ethics. After several more conflicts (Afghanistan, Iraq, Desert Storm), the Vietnam War is now more a subject of historical review. For my uncles, it was vital.

But the stress disorders that often come with active war-time service leave a mark that is detestable. One PTSD counselor in Navajo Country recently shared with me that the effects followed both male and female combatants equally. In addition to mental manifestations, it also took root in physical ways. Substance abuse (a form of self medicating) is common among these walking wounded warriors.

Our military service goes back to time immemorial. At one point, Indians made good scouts because they knew the landscape like no other. Later they made superlative code talkers because their languages were unstudied and had no precedent. But it’s obvious they always made good soldiers (or sailors.)

Meanwhile, fresh blood of native military members is still spilled in service to this country. In Apache, OK, Cpl. Joshua J. Ware touched the hearts of many after he was killed on Nov. 16, 2005. He was described as one of the first to go down on a particularly bloody day in Operation Steel Curtain in Ubaydi, Iraq.

A handsome 20-year-old soldier, Ware was noted for being the first to lead his fire team. And it’s not a bit surprising that an Indian soldier would leap out in battle.  In the book, “When the Tree Flowered,” it was noted that a warrior became twice as strong in the event of overwhelming odds because he was already half in the spirit world and therefore unconquerable.

World War II bred a premium brand of Indian war veterans. Bataan Death March survivors, Alex Mathews and Phillip Coon, found each other when they were being grouped shortly after their capture by the Japanese. And I once met an Osage veteran who told me he was at the battle of Iwo Jima the day before the famed flag-raising photograph.

Indian veterans are everywhere. They carry flags, watch ceremonies and attend funerals with startling dedication. The September death of Navajo code talker, Sgt. Allan Dale June, put into sharp relief that they were of a mortal inventory, not an imperishable commodity.

Veterans’ observances in the tribes vary but serve as a sharp reminder that no one makes a better soldier (or warrior) than an Indian. In Muscogee (Creek) Nation, the veterans’ memorial is inclusive and expanding. At Comanche Nation, flags of their slain warriors are still flown annually. The Kiowa Black Leggings is a clan that recounts their warriors’ specific exploits.

And veterans make a strong mark on our society. Figures from the U.S. 2009 Census estimates that some 153,000 veterans are American Indian. Few families in Indian Country do not have a relative or friend in the military.

This November, a flurry of Veteran’s Day pow-wows abound. Nearly every one of the 560-plus tribes have some sort of veterans’ recognition. Esteeming the brave is a like a pattern welded into our DNA. Nothing compares to an honor song right after grand entry, which is the way I suspect it’s supposed to be.