Over the course of my career, I worked for, and alongside, many men and women who had previously worn the uniforms of our country’s military. Some served for a handful of years. Some served for multiple decades. Some saw combat, some did not.
As part of my jobs, I would meet with high-ranking military leaders. At first, sitting across the table from multi-star admirals and generals was nerve-racking. But it didn’t take long before they were commonplace. At some point, I didn’t give it a second thought. The biggest reason for that was that I’d always thought of them as larger-than-life figures, and then I realized they were really no different than me. Just people trying to do their job the best way they knew how. One admiral, who served as Commander, Navy Region Southwest, had the most wry, sarcastic sense of humor. I loved it.
There were some big differences, though. They, along with the people they led, couldn’t simply quit whenever they wanted to. Their commitments were virtually unbreakable. And that word, “commitment,” was measured in ways I could never fully understand as an outsider. They were on another level entirely. I knew I could never, no matter how hard I tried, replicate anything close to that in my work environment.
I also had the honor of working with many veterans who’d left the military and branched off into the world of business. These people were among the most hard-working, selfless, and coachable people I ever worked with. The closer I worked with them, the more I understood what they had left behind. The tight-knit teams, the unity of purpose, the absolute interdependency. I was envious. It made me want to build that dynamic in the departments I led. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t alter how I viewed leadership. Just knowing them and being in their orbits made me want to be a better leader for them.
We have a designated holiday to honor and remember those valiant souls who fought and died in service of our nation. That’s Memorial Day.
Veterans Day, on the other hand, was meant to be a celebration of all military vets who served honorably in wartime or peacetime, living or deceased. It covers all the branches of the military, including the Coast Guard (too often forgotten) and the relatively new addition, Space Force. In fact, most civilians don’t know that in 2016, a federal law ushered in the new tradition: the Veterans Day Moment of Silence. It asks that we observe 2 minutes of silence at 2:00 PM, Eastern Standard Time. Historically, we’ve always treated Veterans Day as something patriotic. We say, “Thank you for your service,” put out our flags, and stay on the lookout for holiday bargains at our favorite big box stores.
But for the veterans, it’s something very different. For them, it’s a time to reflect on the emotional weight of the unseen contract they signed. The blank check written to our nation, payable up to and including their lives if necessary. An intangible receipt for that solemn promise regardless of whether or not they ever saw combat. It’s a day for them to reconnect with their fellow service members, if possible, remembering their shared struggles, and looking back fondly on their camaraderie.
On this day especially, we cannot ignore the darker realities of serving our nation and must not overlook what happens after they take off the uniform for the last time. Since 2001, four times as many U.S. service members and veterans have died by suicide as were killed in post-9/11 combat ops. The sudden transition from tightly knit, purpose-driven teams of people to a highly individualistic civilian lifestyle is a kind of psychological whiplash for some. The depression that often ensues from the abrupt loss of purpose and community is jarring. For many, leaving the military can be the most difficult thing they do in their life. Too many times I saw how devastating that transition could be. And you never forget the moment someone finally opens up to you about it.
So, this Veterans Day, I have a request of all those who, like me, did not serve. Don’t default to something perfunctory. Put down your excuses, pick up the phone, and reach out to a veteran. Not to say, “thank you for your service.” No check-the-box phrases. Instead, really engage with them. Ask them why they chose their particular branch of the military. Ask where they’d been stationed, what jobs they held, what they do now. Ask if they’re still in close contact with members of their unit. If they recently got out, for goodness’ sake, ask how that transition has been. Give them a chance to be real and then just be present with them for a few minutes. Lift them up any way you can. If a veteran you know is struggling, the Veterans Crisis Line is available 24/7. Just dial 988 and press 1, or text 838255.
If you know people who’ve served, open your calendar right now. Set recurring reminders to reach out to the veterans in your life from November 12th through November 10th. Make it a habit rather than an annual event.
And just remember that a few moments of real humanity remind them why they signed that contract, why they took that oath and whose freedoms they were protecting. It validates all their hard work, and the sacrifices they made.
So yes, stop thanking veterans for their service. Not because it’s not warranted, but because so much more is. Surely we can do better. And surely they’ve earned it.
To all those who have served, on this Veterans Day and every day hereafter, you deserve far more than a transactional handshake once a year. You deserve our lasting presence, our respect, and our willingness to truly listen.
