Was my service worth it?

A veteran of the United States Army looks at modern America and questions his past life of service.

Robert Catanach is a Southern Californian and U.S. Army veteran.

I served for 21 years in the military, under Presidents Clinton, Bush, Obama, Trump (his first administration) and Biden. I’ve served in a lot of different places, from California to the Far East and from the Pacific Northwest to the Middle East.

I first joined the military in the 1990s. In high school, I was a C student from an isolated part of the country. So for me, service was an opportunity to do something different and meaningful; to see the world and get a little money for college. So I joined the Marine Corps. I accomplished what I set out to do. I left my hometown, I did something honorable that few do, I was able to travel a little and went to some very interesting places, including Japan and Australia. I made some awesome lifelong friends. I did my four years, finished my time, left active duty and went back home. I felt like the service was something I had to do. I wasn’t disciplined enough for college until I learned how to manage time and focus on goals, which I learned in the service.

After the Twin Towers fell on September 11, I wanted to do something. I remember on that day, I was enrolled in community college and living with my girlfriend (now wife). I woke up that Tuesday morning and was looking for the remote control so I could watch highlights from the previous night’s Broncos-Giants game. My girlfriend was getting ready for work and told me to turn on the TV because a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. I watched in horror and felt helpless.

The next day, desperate to do something, I called the local recruiting station in my town. I was told by one of the recruiters that for now I was doing the right thing by going to college. They told me the office had a line out the door of people who wanted to enlist and most would be disqualified from service. But what I remember most of all that day was that feeling of the whole country united. People volunteered to go to Ground Zero to help with recovery. I remember a bunch of people organizing a blood drive at my college. Everyone wanted to do something to help.

Since the recruiters told me to finish my degree and then reach out for the possibility of becoming an officer, I focused on school for a while. I kinda put the thought on the back burner and kept on with my education. In 2003, I was still in college as I watched President Bush land on the aircraft carrier and deliver a speech with a big banner that read “Mission Accomplished” hanging from the ship. I assumed I had missed my moment to join and contribute, but I felt good that the conflict seemed to be under control because of our servicemen and women.

A few years went by and I continued to live. I got married, moved a couple times, changed jobs a few times. We’d hear about the wars on the news and about the growing insurgency in Iraq as the country fell into civil war. Then I remember watching the news one night and there was a story that featured service members who were doing multiple tours of duty and the stress and strain it was putting on them. We started hearing the term “stop loss” in reference to the military not letting service members leave active duty due to manpower shortages. We also would hear of deployments getting extended by months in order to make up for the shortfalls. There was no draft and service was voluntary, so it was harder to fill positions. I decided that I had to do something again. Even though I had already previously served and received an honorable discharge, I felt it was my duty to go back and serve again to do my share for our nation.

I spent a few months getting myself into shape. I hadn’t even run in a few years but I trained every single day. It may be a little corny, but I compared myself to an athlete attempting a comeback and my workout playlists even consisted of several “training montage” songs from movies like “Rudy,”, “Rocky” and “The Natural.” I even ran the 2008 OC Half Marathon. Finally, I signed a six-year contract with the Army. I again had pride that I was doing the right thing for the right reasons for the common good. I was ready to do my part.

My first time in service I had been single. I joined in my late teens and served into my early 20s. I barely even had a regular girlfriend for most of my time in the Marine Corps. Now I was in my early 30s and in a much different place in life. I was married and I had sold my wife on the idea of going back to the service. I told her it would probably be a few years before I’d have to be away for very long. About six weeks after I joined though, I was informed that I’d be deploying to Iraq the following summer for a year-long deployment. To add to this, my wife had recently given birth to our daughter, so we had an infant at home. Needless to say, that none of this sat very well, but we endured. I considered it worthwhile for the greater good.

I joined my unit for the train-up and mobilization and I did my tour in Iraq. I was stationed at FOB Kalsu in Babil Province Iraq, approximately 50-60 kilometers south of Baghdad along MSR Tampa (the main road running through Iraq). FOB Kalsu was named after the former Buffalo Bills offensive lineman Bob Kalsu, who died while serving in Vietnam.

I had similar experiences to many others. My unit wasn’t Special Forces or anything that high speed. We did leave the wire occasionally but never really ran into too much trouble. Our base was frequently rocketed. We weren’t just experiencing attacks on U.S. forces, we also were caught in the middle of skirmishes between Sunni and Shia groups in the area. Our team was commended several times by the brass for our efforts while working in an area under constant attack. Again, though, I told myself that I’m here because it kept some other soldier from having to go a third or fourth or fifth time.

All told between pre-deployment training and deployment time, I was gone for roughly 20 months. I’d get a few days at home here and there, but it only got harder to have to keep saying goodbye to my wife and kid. Many times I had to leave in the middle of the night to catch a flight and I would give my wife and daughter a kiss goodbye while they were still sleeping. My daughter was 1 when I first left and she was 3 by the time I finished the deployment. Anyone who has children knows that is a lot of time to miss, especially at that age. But, again, I reasoned that there were other service members who had missed the births of their children or had never come home again. I felt my own sacrifice was small in comparison, but was worth it.

After I got home, many of my peers had already made post-service plans. When I’d show for military training and functions, it felt like there were fewer and fewer of my crew who went with me. I, however, decided to stay. The Army had rewarded me. I promoted quickly and received several medals. This made me feel like I was doing the right thing. I even did a recruiting commercial for the Army in 2012. I was absolutely proud of my service. I spent the next few years training for the next deployment, which I assumed would be to Afghanistan. I passed my experience on to the newer soldiers and trained them to try to make them better prepared for their experience.

My next deployment never came though. I was put on alert a few times and did a brief rotation in South Korea, but never did another combat deployment. I spent my last five years in a non-deployable training unit and retired in 2022. I would have stayed longer, but my health began to decline from several conditions directly related to my service. It was hard to be told that I couldn’t be a soldier any longer, and I compared my experience to an athlete who had been cut from the team due to injury.

After retirement, I had to find a new identity and new hobbies to fill my time. I didn’t want to just be another vet wearing a service ball cap. I wanted to enjoy my life. I started watching more baseball. I volunteered to assist the marching band at my kid’s high school. I went to more concerts. I finally got around to organizing my baseball card collection. I travelled a little. I also was able to spend time taking care of my health.

Then, 2024 arrives. The outcome was shocking but not completely unexpected. But it felt like a dark cloud hovered over our heads. Instantly, the country started to change. Policy was traded for rhetoric. The people in power delighted at the misery they created. People who knew how to govern forfeited their power and duties in lieu of remaining in the good graces of the administration. I felt just as helpless as I did on 9/11. I wanted to do something, but this time I didn’t know what to do or how to help.

I remember when I began to notice the effects of DOGE and federal cuts … when it became more difficult to schedule medical appointments with the VA clinic. This is now jeopardizing my ability to take care of my health. Again, don’t know what to do or how to help.

But then—the awfulness. Immigration becomes a new literal battleground with armed masked agents picking people off the streets. We must, of course, have law and order in our society, but people are being picked up with no warrant, no due process or are being stopped because of their color or because they speak with an accent or don’t speak English as a first language. Even US citizens who “look” a certain way are detained and forced to prove their innocence. This is absolutely counter to what our values should be in this country.

Then, when citizens begin to observe, record and call the masked men out for their actions, the agents react with force and violence. Citizens are detained, injured, and some are even killed simply for practicing their First Amendment rights. No due process, no acknowledgement of rights, no deescalation of force. Not even basic trigger discipline and absolutely no respect even for a fellow citizen. Even when I was in Iraq, we had Rules of Engagement. You couldn’t shoot at someone just because they cursed you or threw a piece of trash at you. These masked agents were trying to act as judge, jury and executioner.

I also became horrified seeing these masked individuals dressing in combat uniforms similar to what I wore in the military. They were cosplaying as warriors, but showing none of the attributes that defined our service time, including honor. It is offensive to me to see these masked goons displaying this type of behavior while wearing the uniform that so many honorable people wore as a representative of our nation. In my opinion, they didn’t deserve to wear that uniform.

Even locally, in south Orange County, where we are normally pretty immune to unrest, we witness these actions. One morning, my wife and daughter saw a car getting blocked in and masked agents swarming the car and removing the driver. This occurred at the intersection of Aliso Creek Road and the SR-73 on ramp. Of course we didn’t know the full circumstances, but it was something that resembled kidnapping more than law enforcement. My own child witnessed with this her own eyes.

I now doubt my own personal sacrifices I’ve made for this country. I’m almost ashamed of what we represent. No law and order, no process, just ruling by force and delighting in the thought of hurting people. It’s heartbreaking to see this happening. Why did we sacrifice so much just to become a cruel society? Was my service worth it?

I also began to feel like the youth had either become indifferent or live in fear themselves. We would see the local protests every Saturday, but most of the participants are middle aged or older. While the older crowd may be more worldly and experienced, they just didn’t have the same energy. Because we didn’t really see the young people, the protests seemed to lack the enthusiasm and energy. I wanted to see the same energy that young people showed at a college football game, or in the pit at a rock concert.

A few days later, my kid told me she was going to participate in the walkout protest on January 30 with other students at her school. Initially I was a little worried about it because of the violence in Minneapolis. But I figured she is almost the same age I was when I joined the military. I reminded her that if she believed in a cause, stand up and make your voice heard. I also teold her that if she decided to participate, she must be prepared to receive any consequences that would arise from leaving class to participate. I reminded her that there is no such thing as “free speech” and that we all pay for every word. I also told her that there is no halfway point in protesting. You are either are or are not. It can’t just be for “likes” on social media.

She made her decision to participate.

Friday came and I checked in via text with my kid while I was at work. I live/work nearby and could see that hundreds of students had joined. I was able to see the protests around Town Center and some of the students had also begun sharing the videos on social media. They screamed profanities about ICE and shouted their support for immigrants as valued members of the community. The youth energy was there, or at least I finally saw it. The same kind of energy that fuels the fans at Texas A&M football games or at Duke basketball games, or even at a local punk rock show, was there on display as these students made their voices heard. The best part was that this wasn’t for something as trivial as a game, it was real life. Above all, they did this in a peaceful-yet-assertive manner. For most this was their first protest, but I don’t think it will be the last for many of them.

There were, of course, a handful of counter protesters, but they were very small in number compared to the hundreds of people who marched against the cruel tactics that ICE has employed. They seemed to interact in a pretty civil manner which also speaks to their character.

I couldn’t have been prouder of these young people. My heart swelled with pride that this many young people in our community decided to take a stand for what they believed it and displayed the courage to show the world what side they’re on. It made me feel how I used to feel about my service time, especially when I’d wear my service uniform with all my ribbons. I was proud of what I had done.

Of course, what these young people did is not exactly the same as deploying overseas, but they were doing something important and meaningful and something that did require some courage. I’m sure that some of these kids’ parents didn’t approve for various reasons, but I hope the young people who participated that day walked away with a sense of pride. I hope that this is not the last time that these young people will set out to serve their community. I have a feeling that this is just the beginning for these young people.

Many people have a lot of opinions about the youth today. This isn’t new. I remember when my generation, Gen X, was called slackers or the “MTV generation.” But watching how the young people have turned out in large numbers has reminded me of the saying, “The kids are going to be alright.”