In my undergrad university history class we had a Holocaust survivor come in and tell his story. We then each got the time to speak to him. I started the conversation normally, asked some questions that he seemed to like, he ended up getting emotional, and my (at the time) fragile masculinity went stalled out at seeing another man cry and I went, “oh wow… thank you for your service”.
The look he gave me… the look this chick I was sweet on gave me… the look my professor gave me… It haunts me whenever I hear someone bring up the holocaust.
My greatest fear is being one of the home-growns sent to the El Savador “””Prison”””, surviving to be 90, and then hearing some little shit tell me “thank you for your service”. I’d not make it to 91.
Comments
Well earned trauma.