BY MINQI SONG
Wes Lam never thought of himself as a stranger in the U.S. Army. A son of Chinese immigrants, Wes served in the army from 1999 to 2009, including one year in Iraq right after the 2003 Invasion. I looked at him: a face written the memory of many things both joyful and sorrowful.
He was hardly asked about his identity and ethnical origin during his ten years in the army. “The military is very different from the outside world,” Wes told me, “When you put on the green uniform, you are green. It does not matter what your skin color is.”
At the end of 2005, when he went back home from Iraq, he received lots of attention and care, both from friends and people he was not familiar with. In the first few months, every conversation was “kinda story-telling style”.
Curiosity towards Wes’ experiences waned away over time, but what Wes saw, heard, tasted, and felt in the ten-year service remained imprinted on his mind.
Everyone has specific reasons for joining the Army. Back to 1998, Wes was interning in the mutual funds department of CIBC World Markets. Part of the daily routine was walking across the crowds of Wall Street professionals. But what he was really thinking was, “I want to travel the world. I want to get away from the traditional career track,” his eyebrows raised.
At that time, Wes was 80% sure about seeing the world as a soldier. He decided to get around to find the remaining 20%. Surprisingly, Tony, a mentor of Wes from CIBC, told him, “go join the Army, go see the world. Youth is a precious thing. Money? That will always be there.” He grasped the underlying message, one that told him how addictive making money can be.
Seeking a better job and life in a foreign country, Wes’ parents were determined and courageous in a sense, while also inherited the traditional parenting embedded in Chinese culture. “You know, it is about convincing them——at the end of the day, it is my life. They cannot plan that out like what they did before,” his voice on the air is soothing.
Wes could have been assigned to a peaceful place. No incessant fights. No suicide bombs. But he volunteered to go to Iraq.
It is not because he is too courageous to ignore any danger or risks. Growing up in a neighborhood on the border of Bay Ridge by Sunset Park, Brooklyn, one of the lowest-income communities in New York City, was not really safe back in the 90s. Gang violence, drug dealings, homicides, all the time.
“It was all out of the naivety of youth,” Wes said, mildly. Here, naivety is not used for mockery.
“If I were to do something, I needed to do it now. The risk you take while you are young is very different from what you’d take when you are older.” Iraq in 2004 was witnessing an increase of insurgency violence and Wes ended up supporting the local ordnance disposal units with other 20 other comrades.
He was deployed to Baghdad, Samarra, Tikrit… and lots of places defined by latitudes and longitudes. Bombs going off. Insurgents firing. Shocked as anyone from a civilized world, there were moments when he felt mentally drained. However, “camaraderie goes before any indications like ‘I do not want to do this anymore’. If one of us failed, the entire team failed.” In those very rare moments of downtime, Wes cleaned his weapons, did laundry, or played video games. These things helped Wes disassociated himself from war and replenished his emotional capacity.
Never had Wes doubted the meaning of his presence in the country, unlike what was portrayed and criticized by many coverages from the outside world. In fact, there was one incident that made the reason even clearer to him.
It was a post-blast incident. The team was called to investigate the area. It turned out to be a suicide bomber who blew up in a kindergarten. “I did not expect it. I have seen people’s limbs, bodies, laying all over the street. All broken into pieces. Everyday. However, what really shocked me was seeing bodies of little kids. That was another level of mental challenge,” he lowered his head and then looked out the window. It became a reminder, for Wes, of not just why he was there, but more about why he was there to do what he needed to do. “It is about saving lives. It is all about preventing something like that from happening again.”
Wes could not be more aware of the vulnerabilities of a soldier. He shared many of those widely-mentioned psychological burdens. Nonetheless, he has a different perspective about his experience. “I found the answers for ‘what my mental breaking point was’ and ‘how I can overcome these traumas’.” He does not flip them over. Instead, he oftentimes opens the box and unveils the memory kept inside of it.
He goes even further: listening to the stories of others, who have been battling for their own lives such as abuse of parents, death of close families at a very young age, or accidents. He liked encouraging his friends, but not by “showcasing” or making comparisons. “Each of us has our own challenges to deal with. I could not impose my challenge and my lessons on someone”. What he kept doing was delivering empathy.
“Your experience, their experience, my experience…collectively, it is human history. And the coolest thing about human beings, compared to other organisms in the world, is we write down our histories.”
Travelling the world was what motivated him to make that decision in 1999. To Wes, this dream has partially realized because of the ten year in the Army. “I got to travel the world. Um…I like eating. So I got to try cuisines across the world. I was exposed to very different cultures, languages, music, and religions, even though that makes me much older when compared with my classmates.” Recalling on those days in Iraq, Wes remembered the locals who came to the garrison to help with logistics. “Sometimes they sell their artwork. Carpets, tapestry… very nice staff.”
The one year in Iraq, in his eyes, is just a short chapter of his life. “A chapter that could not define who I am”. Neither the ten year. He cherishes youthfulness, like his mentor told him two decades ago, but is not anxious about “cannot find the purpose of life at a young age.”
The 37-year-old veteran is now an international affairs student. A few know that he has another identity: a part-time Juilliard student who has been passionate about performing arts since high school. “Or a ‘theater geek’. That was how my classmates called me,” he giggled, as an expression of his liking the nickname. In the field, in Iraq, there was no Broadway theater. But he still tried to spare time for some USO shows. Three months ago, Wes got the permission to attend evening classes after a personalized audition. He wanted to hone his performing skills.
“Not for career. Someday I may become a real performer on stage. But it does not matter. Performing for my families and friends also makes me happy. We will see.”
He is now working on his application for Juilliard’s vocal performance program. His classmates, most of whom are in their mid-20s, are preparing for group interviews with Mckinsey and Morgan Stanley.
He is travelling around the world of art with flashbacks from the war zone. He does not have a road map in hand. But he is not bewildered.
This is how he is writing his personal history.