My Son Karl

The Jesuits say, “Give us a child until he is six years old, and he’ll be a Catholic for the rest of his life.” Or something like that. Maybe it was the Baptist who said, “Train up a child in the way he should go.” People argue about which is more important, heredity or environment.

All I know is that children are born with distinct personalities. Every mother – well, most mothers – do the best they can. Children grow up, and parents are surprised.

From the time he was a small child, my son Karl was fascinated by all things military. He was about nine years old when someone gave him a book of “Great Battles of History”. By the time he was eleven he knew all the great military campaigns from Alexander the Great through Napoleon and World Wars I and II.

He learned about warfare – weapons, armament, organization, tactics. He acquired armies of toy soldiers. As a teenager, when other boys were outside tossing baseballs or practicing football, I would find Karl in his room, either reading a book on military history or hunched over his table, painting blue and gray uniforms on tiny toy soldiers from the Civil War.

He joined the U.S. Army as an expert on the Russians: the weapons they used, where troops were deployed, numbers of soldiers in each unit. He taught himself Russian in order to read their military publications. That’s how he came to be stationed in Frankfurt, Germany, with Army Intelligence. .

I am a Pacifist. I oppose wars, not because I am an isolationist, but because they are a waste of precious lives and seldom have good results. Over 58,000 American boys died in Vietnam. What was the result? Bush sent thousands more to die and be maimed in Iraq and Afghanistan. My Congressman claims we “liberated” those countries. Who is the fool? Me or those who believe the Congressman?

I won’t have a gun in my house. How did I produce a son who is obsessed with warfare and who owns a dozen rifles?

Mothers try to understand their kids. Even when they are puzzled by their children's choices, mothers do things to make their children happy. I knew Karl was interested in the Ancient Roman Empire. He knows as much about Roman legions as he does about Russian missiles. That’s a lot. That’s why, when David and I arrived in Frankfurt, the first place we took Karl was the “restored” Roman fort in the village of Bad Homburg, a few miles northwest of Frankfurt.