You’re Welcome for My Service
By Alben Osaki
Back in 2007, just after I joined the U.S. Navy, I was stationed at Training Support Center Great Lakes, near Waukegan, Illinois. I was a fresh-faced 17-year-old still in training, having accomplished next to nothing except graduating from boot camp. So the first time someone told me, “Thank you for your service,” I was admittedly pretty caught off guard.
“Thanks,” was all I could think of muttering back as they walked past me on the train.
I had a mini existential crisis for the rest of the day.
Why would this stranger thank me for my service? Did I really deserve any thanks? I was barely out of boot camp. Furthermore, how should I even reply to someone saying that? Should I have said “You’re welcome” instead? What kind of tool would say “You’re welcome”?
The author, sixth from left, at VLS “C” School, CSCS Det West, San Diego, CA.
I’m now a bit older and a bit wiser, but even today I’m not entirely sure how I should respond. Even though most people who utter those words aren’t doing it out of any malice, it seems like such a loaded statement.
Let’s face it, military “hero-worship” is just plain weird.
Maybe it’s just me being salty and disgruntled, but 99% of everyone you ever run into in uniform probably hasn’t done anything to directly defend your rights and freedom. Thank you for your service? Do you mean the service where I spent most of my time sweeping dust bunnies, playing video games on deployment, and being generally miserable?
Scott Bourque, adjunct professor at Arizona State University, told me that he believes that hero-worship turns veterans into a marginalized group, though he hates using that term. “Society defines veterans by a job we once held, often decades ago, that we may have taken out of desperation, and may not be particularly proud of,” he told me. “If I was killed by a drunk driver tomorrow, the news headline would say Navy veteran killed by drunk driver. Not journalism professor or media researcher or guy who likes to bake pastries or beloved son, brother, and friend, or any other part of our identity. We are defined by a job we once held.”
Maximilian Uriarte, the creator of the popular Terminal Lance comic strip, reinforces Bourque’s point: “You don’t see the news labeling . . . other people’s ex-jobs every time they commit a crime because it doesn’t matter. Being a veteran, even a war veteran, could have absolutely nothing to do with violent behavior. It’s very possible that this person was just a giant dickhead.”
What’s worse is that despite all this hero-worship, at the end of the day it’s all just words and no action.
“Thank you for your service… but we’re not going to fix the dumpster fire that is Veteran Affairs healthcare.”
“Thank you for your service… but we don’t care if you suffered from burn pits while you were serving in a war we started.”
“Thank you for your service… as long as you're not a minority.”
“The hero worship is misplaced,” Bourque said, “When someone calls a veteran a hero, they're forcing that veteran to either remember a traumatic memory or to respond in a way that might make them uncomfortable.” Cue back to 17-year-old me and my existential crisis on that train in Illinois.
“Being stationed overseas taught me one thing: America isn't exceptional,” Bourque continues, “I don't hate America, but for someone to say that the United States is the greatest country in the world is short-sighted. There's no such thing as the greatest country in the world—countries are good at some things, bad at other things.”
Of all people, a random Redditor by the handle u/looktowindward perhaps put it most succinctly when he wrote, “Our country needs to find a middle ground between spitting on the military and treating everyone like a fucking hero.”
That being said, I’m still gonna claim my free donut from Dunkin’ every Veterans Day because you’re welcome for my service.
Alben Osaki is a photojournalist and filmmaker residing in South Texas, with a focus on the outdoors.
