Opinion No guideposts on the road to war

For my parents it was Vietnam, for my grandparents, World War II. Even my older cousins can remember a war -- Desert Storm. It seems like every adult in my life can recall a war -- some small conflicts, some major conflagrations. Their stories are haunting. My grandmother witnessed the bombing of Pearl Harbor. My parents watched their peers being slaughtered on the television during dinner.

My father constantly tells me about how lucky he was to have had such a high draft number and how my uncle wasn't so lucky.

History reminds me of peace rallies, protests, runaways and the terrible losses of Vietnam.

I had the privilege of visiting the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. Being there gave me a strange and sad sense of security. I could see the rows of names; I could even touch them. I felt a terrible pain for those who suffered during Vietnam, yet to me the list was still only letters and words, nothing tangible.

Feeling the way I did at that memorial left me anxious and confused. Why couldn't I fully understand the sacrifices that the soldiers made?

The answer is clearer than I thought. I was too young to have ever gone through a war.

I was a young child during Desert Storm; it isn't even a memory for me. I have never watched my friends and loved ones leave for a war. My generation is one of the first in a long time that hasn't had to experience the atrocities that war brings.

I am watching on edge as my country anticipates war. My parents cringe at the thought, reminded of their pasts. But for me, the word "war" brings nothing but images produced by Hollywood and carried out on television screens.

I see my fellow seniors at Sisters High School. I try to envision some of them on the front lines, fighting ruthlessly, but I can't. All I see are computer-animated figures dancing around a combat video game.

I remember commercials I've seen for war-based games and try to relate that to real life. My attempts are futile. My friends and I know nothing of real combat, only what has been glorified by virtual mediums. I see a general apathy amongst my friends and can understand why.

I fully understand that war is a real thing, but I am having trouble deciding what "real" is. Many of the images I have been given on television are real but I have been taught to regard things on TV as fantasy.

Deliniating between actors posing as heroes and the real ones is sometimes difficult.

I have more to go on than just movies, though. I have the endless stories that have been passed down through generations. I have my grandmother telling me what it was like to see hundreds of Japanese planes flying overhead in Hawaii.

She tells me how her school was transformed into a hospital.

My father explains to me what the draft was like, how uncertain he was of his future. My uncle even tells some scattered stories of life in Vietnam; his voice always reveals his pain.

I hear these stories, and try to interpret them, but I still have trouble separating them from bedtime tales. It is much easier to believe that war is all just someone's fantasy life, like Cinderella. I believe these stories only because I have to, not because I want to.

When I think of my life to come, my thoughts end up in uncertainty. War may come whether I like it or not and I am unsure whether I am pro-war or anti-war.

All I know is that I have nothing to expect, no prior knowledge to carry me through. I look to my parents for support; they have been here before, and surely they will tell me what to do.

But my parents are as nervous and apprehensive as I am. They may have lived through a war, but never through this war. I want someone to tell me what the outcome will be; I don't like guessing.

Looking back on all the other generations who stood on the brink of war I think, Did any of them know what was coming? No.

There is no one to give us answers.