By Kevin D. Williamson
Wednesday, August 14, 2024
Tim Walz has exactly the kind of dopey, smug left-wing
politics you’d expect from a Minnesota public school teacher. Republicans’
trying to knock his military service instead may be the dumbest thing I have
heard in a long, dumb political season.
Walz and his Republican opposite number, J.D. Vance, have
something in common: Both men are veterans who never did any fighting per se.
Vance is a Marine who served in a public-affairs role in Iraq, while Walz
served for a quarter-century in the National Guard, including deployments to
Italy, a mission that was—somehow, in our stupid times, this phrase has become
controversial—“in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.” Neither man was
spending a lot of time rappelling out of helicopters in combat zones or kicking
down doors in Fallujah. Which is to say: Both men had military careers that
were a lot like most military careers.
People who want to sneer at that kind of service should
do themselves—and the rest of us!—a favor and read a book. Maybe even two.
Because you do not have to be a veteran, only a literate person, to know what
military commanders from Julius Caesar to Napoleon to Dwight Eisenhower
understood: Soldiers may perform deeds of great heroism and courage in battle,
but wars are won by the support staff, by the logistics teams, by the boring
pencil pushers, truck drivers, and back-end workers who make sure that the troops
and the bullets and the food and the bandages are where they are supposed to be
when they are supposed to be there. Eisenhower never fired a shot at an enemy
in the course of his long military career, where his most important talents
were administrative and organizational. He did not kill one enemy in combat,
but he did organize D-Day—160,000 troops, 7,000 ships and boats, 12,000
aircraft, etc.—and that must count for something.
Walz’s unit mostly served as guards at military bases—not
exactly what Chris
Kyle spent his days doing, but there’s a reason they give those guys
rifles. Vance’s role as a self-described “public-affairs Marine” (he was a
combat correspondent) was part of a larger effort to try to ensure that that
combat he was writing about produced the desired effect. Armies and navies are
big, unwieldy things with many different roles, none of them unimportant. One
of the most admirable military careers with which I am familiar has
been mostly communications-oriented.
These are important jobs. But, at the same time, Walz was
a middle-aged high-school educator when he retired from the National Guard to
run for Congress. And please be assured that I write the following words with
the appropriate degree of self-awareness: He wasn’t exactly a lean, mean,
fighting machine in middle age, and he didn’t need to be: It’s not like he was
about to be sent out into the field to chase the bad guys around in Iraq or
Afghanistan.
There is real sacrifice involved in the kind of service
in which Walz was engaged. (I love Italy, but Walz wasn’t exactly stationed at
Villa d’Este.) But it is of a different kind from charging up Bunker Hill:
inconvenience, separation from family and community, the dreariness of rote
military work, interruption of career and personal plans, etc. Walz gave 24
years of his life to that kind of unglamorous service. Nobody is ever going to
make a movie about his exciting military career. I am sure that much of it was
dead boring. That doesn’t make it any less essential. He did his bit and then
some before he left to run for the House.
The worst I have seen of Walz’s supposed exaggeration of
his military career is his saying that the AR-style rifle is something he
“carried in war” in the course of making some predictably dumb and banal
remarks about gun control. That is a pretty thin reed to hang him on. For one
thing, there is the fact that his statement was true: He was at war, in
a needful role. The truth of that is not changed by the fact that his role was
a modest and obscure one—and, to his credit, he has never pretended that it was
anything else. You can’t tell soldiers “Thank you for your service” on Mondays
and then sneer at the actual service that most soldiers do on
Tuesdays—that isn’t how gratitude works. It isn’t how armies work,
either.
By all means, savage Tim Walz for his dumb politics. And
he deserves to be criticized in the serious matter—the seriously
character-illuminating matter—of his willful, shameful
personal dishonesty toward J.D. Vance, to whom he owes an apology. Vance,
for his part, is going to have a hard time convincing anybody that Walz’s
military career was anything less than honorable from his current undignified
position on his knees in front of
Subcommandante Bonespurs, a draft-dodging coward who has spent years mocking
the service and courage of better men. That Vance’s position also makes it
difficult for him to complain about dishonesty in the service of derision
doesn’t make Walz’s dishonesty any less dishonest. It just means that American
politics offers voters an opportunity to choose from a colorful and diverse
bouquet of a–holes.
So, Tim Walz: Thank you for your service. And thanks but
no thanks on the dumb politics.
Is that so hard?
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