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By Andrew Swensen of Pittsburgh Filmmakers
Everyone has a good story to tell. A cliche, but like most cliches, it is also true. A war veteran, however, has something to tell that is more than just a "good story," more than a yarn to spin, and the term seems almost demeaning.
A war veteran has seen things that defy comprehension, and the passions have run to the deepest place of human experience. Their stories are more than merely good; they are profound and unforgettable. And they do not occupy the far distant reaches of ancient epics or novels that we read in school. They might just be in the house across the street.
The narrative voice of war speaks in a world of superlatives and absolutes. Yet the frequently repeated "always" and "never" never seem to suggest any sense of hyperbole, just the truth of an extraordinary moment. The passions run just as high when talking about storytelling itself, though the comments often go in opposite directions. On one hand, a sense of obligation yields a statement like "This story needs to be told." On the other hand, a desire to protect family members back home or a wish not to revisit too painful memories brings the story to an inconclusive "I can't tell you what happened next."
"In Service" gives a voice to all of these stories. Some are told in words, some in visual images, and some just through the sounds of war. Soldiers, journalists and civilians bear witness to their wartime experiences, discuss their frequent ambivalence about returning home, and share their perspectives on what has transpired.
We often speak of war in broad, geopolitical terms, but lost in this discourse is the simple fact that war is local and personal. In the heat of battle, the soldier spends more time thinking about the compatriot sitting next to him or her than about the political questions occupying the front page of the newspaper.
War is the story of one individual, your fellow Pittsburgher perhaps living next door or working in the next office over. Their stories range from horrifying tales of tragedy to gripping accounts of peril and heroism.
They deserve to be told, and we ought to listen:
When we first hit the gun in Iraq, there were just so many thoughts because we really didn't know where we were ... if we were safe ... you know, we didn't know if we were going to touch down in the middle of a firefight or if we would touch down and have to drive 50 miles to where we were going to live, so it was just really a lot of confusion on my part. I'm sure people higher up knew where we were going and knew what was going on, but I really didn't. Spc. Rob Ploskunak lives in Plum. He served with Alpha Company, 1-110th Infantry.
I'd never seen, you know, any kind of desert, any kind of other country like that before except Korea. It was a totally different experience. I was just like wow, you know, damn. I'm here and it sucks and just going through all the in-processing, going to these different tents and the whole time you've got all your bags that you brought with you, all your clothes and everything. You still don't have a home yet, you're just wandering around in these different lines, different meetings, briefings, this and that and it was just a mess. That very first day was a mess. Nobody had any idea what was going on and we are all just in the same boat, just lost.
Sgt. Daniel Connerly lives in Brookline. He served with Alpha Battery, 18th Field Artillery.
A regular day usually started off as early as 0600 with a mortar attack.
Maj. Jerome C. Duffy Jr. lives on the North Shore. He served as a transportation officer the 101st Airborne Division.
When the mortars started coming in that first night, we were asleep ... none of us knew what it was. ... I remember some of them tried to pretend like they were still asleep; some guys got up. But once we established what was going on, it was all real then. It was like, 'All right ... we are really in Iraq now. These are bombs.'
Sgt. Kevin Carmichael served with the 1-23rd Infantry.
I actually volunteered to go. I don't know ... I knew it was going to come eventually ... be it if I volunteered or not, so I was all right with it. My dad had a couple of choice words. He called me a stupid bastard and asked me why I wanted to go and stuff like that ... Telling him that my friends were going wasn't really a good answer for him, but there was nothing he could do about it I guess.
Staff Sgt. John Cornetto is from Armagh. He served with Alpha Company, 1-110th Infantry.
I've never felt closer to being alive than when I was in a gun fight, you know what I mean, and shooting back at the enemy and engaging and stuff like that. That's the only specific time in my life that I can honestly say that I was in the moment, with life, you know? That's really odd because most people would say, You're crazy. But if you ask any one of us that, we'll tell you that. ... We were just in the moment with life, so it was kind of cool and it was this big rush. When that kind of stuff happens, everyone's like, Are you scared? and I'm like: 'You're scared for about two seconds and then you just react.' Fear goes away and you just deal with it and you do what you're supposed to do and just roll with it. When you come back, you're like ... 'That was crazy.
Sgt. Shawn Bronson served for two years with Alpha Company, 1-110th Infantry.
I don't think really anybody who was there and did what we did could say there wasn't a time they weren't afraid, but I never really let it control me. You know, when you get scared your adrenalin starts going and then, you know, you do your job.
Spc. Rop Ploskunak
We drove tractor trailers, 18-wheelers all over the country to deliver all sorts of supplies, everything from bombs and bullets to concrete barriers to food and water. You name it, we took it there.
Sgt. Helen Gerhardt lives in Highland Park. She served with the Army in Iraq from June 2003 to June 2004. She is a graduate student in writing at the University of Pittsburgh.
My first one ... I was taking a shower in a shower trailer about a mile away. We had to walk like a mile just to get a shower and I had just stepped out and this thing hit probably like 30, 40 feet from the shower and just the whole thing shook and we all didn't know what to think. ... It pretty much hit the ground. I just remember I was naked, I had just stepped out of the shower so it was kind of weird.
Sgt. Shawn Bronson
I don't know how the guys in World War II did it, but we were in an open field once. Whoever was shooting mortars at us had us pretty much zeroed in and they were just dropping mortars on us. I think having artillery and mortars just coming out there and exploding around you is probably one of the scariest feelings in the world. Just like I said, you know that happened all the time in World War II, I don't know how those guys did it.
Spc. Daniel Kysela lives in Swissvale. He served in the B Co. 1-110th Infantry, 2nd Brigade Combat Team. He is an undergraduate studying history at the University of Pittsburgh.
The military is a job. You've got your higher-ups and it just comes down to that. It's like any normal job. If your boss tells you, 'Hey, cook this,' you're going to cook it. My boss told me, 'Hey, you're going to Iraq.' So I'm going to Iraq. It was my job and that's what I was told to do. I was more than happy to go do it. I was more than happy to go, give my life, give my leg, hey, whatever it took.
Cpl. James Stuck lives in New Kensington. He served with the 101st Airborne Division.
The missions that I went on were patrol missions. I didn't go on any raids. Basically what we did was we'd patrol, one squad on either side of the street and they called it the TCP, Tactical Check Point, and basically we'd stop vehicles that looked like high-rollers in Iraq, BMWs. It's very distinct because everybody pretty much drove shabby Novas or beat-up cars. If you have someone that looked like they were up to something, they were very distinct.
Sgt. Kevin Carmichael
Sand storms were a constant worry. Talk about the fog of war. It was like being on Mars, it was red dust that would just settle over the area and sit for hours. There were times when convoys couldn't continue or could drive only very slowly when one literally couldn't see what was on the horizon, which could be scary. Imagine being in somebody else's desert and blind.
Lisa Rose Weaver was a producer and correspondent for CNN. She was embedded with the 3rd Infantry Division in 2003. She is the professional communications programs director at Chatham University.
You never felt clean. It was crazy, washing our hands. My mom would send me a lot of the anti-bacterial stuff that you use so you wouldn't have to wash. You just put it on your hands. It always seemed like you're dirty.
Capt. Danielle DiBacco lives in New Stanton and is a captain in the Army.
Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.
