Those of us who served in Iraq or Afghanistan inevitably experienced the “Groundhog Day Syndrome.” As the weeks in those combat zones turned into months and then years, the days increasingly seemed the same, regardless of what one was doing.
This was true at every level and in every position, though the dangers in the front-line positions obviously were vastly greater than the dangers in others. But routine still set in even there. And all of us, looking at the schedule for the day, would see that it was mind-numbingly similar to the previous day and the day before that. Life was a Groundhog Day existence.
Certainly, some days included deadly ambushes, devastating IED explosions, suicide bomber attacks, volleys of rockets, and so on. Despite that, variety was not a notable feature of life in the war zones.
In recognition of this, in a military that prized coins created to recognize excellence, one creative punster created a “Groundhog Day coin,” for presentation after 30 days on the ground. It was blank on both sides.
Gen. David Petraeus (Ret.), Former Commander, Multi-National Force-Iraq
Former Director of the CIA
As the Groundhog Day Syndrome set in for me on each of my tours downrange – even when I was privileged to command the Surge – I realized that we not only had to be aware of it, we had to fight against it. So, I started adding additional thoughts to my remarks after patrols with our soldiers in the field, with leaders in pre-deployment video conferences, and with advisor teams in their orientation seminar.
Eventually, I noted, the Groundhog Day Syndrome sets in for all of us. We seem to be trudging through life, accepting what it sends our way, powerless to do anything about it. It is like we are slogging along on an endless road march, with a heavy rucksack, putting our right foot in front of our left, then our left in front of our right, and repeating the process.
I explained that we had to resist this feeling. We had to keep our heads in the game, keenly aware of our actions, those of our partners, and what was going on in the surrounding areas. We had to remember that, on the battlefield, the world could erupt in the blink of an eye. And in the aftermath, each of us could be the most important person in the life of a fellow soldier, as a battle buddy for a comrade pinned down by enemy fire or trying to save a badly wounded partner.
Beyond that, we had to remember the importance of what we were doing. We had to appreciate the privilege of performing a mission larger than self with those around us. And we had to understand the criticality of doing all that we could to accomplish our mission.
We also had to have confidence that our strategy would produce results and that we could ultimately achieve what we were seeking. I firmly believed it, and I sought to convey it to those with whom I was privileged to serve.
I suggested that when we sensed the onset of the Groundhog Day Syndrome, we should, metaphorically speaking, transport ourselves up to 30,000 feet, look down at where we were and the mission in which we were engaged, and realize how privileged we were – to be Americans, to be engaged in an effort of enormous consequence, to do so together with fellow Americans and our coalition partners, and to be contributing to progress if we did what was necessary.
In the back of my mind in those years, was a sense that Iraq and Afghanistan were the wars of our lifetime.
I was wrong. It is now obvious that the fight against COVID-19 is the most important war of our lifetime. The enemy has already taken far more American lives than we lost in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and the 9/11 attacks, combined. And we’re all engaged in it together.
Gen. David Petraeus (Ret.), Former Commander, Multi-National Force-Iraq
Former Director of the CIA
The campaign being waged against the pandemic is not just a whole of government endeavor, it is a whole of society effort. Each of us has a part to play. In addition to demonstrating appreciation for the service of the medical community and first responders, the ones on the frontlines of this endeavor, each of us can contribute.
Some keep our grocery stores and pharmacies open and enable delivery of critical goods and services. Others maintain the digital connectivity and social media platforms that allow us to stay connected virtually and work remotely. Still others sustain the provision of basic services in our communities that we take for granted.
But the rest of us also have a role to play: by adhering to physical distancing practices, by washing our hands and not touching our faces, by making masks and wearing them in public situations, and, indeed, by just staying home unless there is a valid reason to go out.
So this is the campaign of our lifetime, and we are all in it together. We need to do what each of us can to help the overall effort, as we can influence the duration and outcome of this fight by what each of us contributes.
At the beginning of the Surge in Iraq, I told the Senate Armed Services Committee: “It is going to get much harder in Iraq before it gets easier.” That proved correct. The same is true in this campaign. Though deaths seem to be plateauing, hard days lie ahead of us. And the way to flatten the curve, to reduce the numbers infected, to save lives, and to deal with the Groundhog Day Syndrome is by doing what we did in Iraq: remember and cherish who we are, the importance of what we’re doing, and the privilege of doing it with fellow Americans. Pick up the rucksack, continue to march (at least six feet apart), and drive on.
What lies ahead will continue to be hard. But, as I observed in Iraq in early February 2007, at the beginning of the Surge, hard is not hopeless.
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