It is not uncommon for politicians, media figures and the general public to claim – without question – that those serving in the armed forces are heroes. Military service is unique, and the challenges faced by service members are unlike those of other professions. Violent death is a real possibility while wearing a service uniform. But does this make everyone who served a hero?

Like many veterans, I’ve been called a hero for my military service. As I see it, I didn’t accomplish anything extraordinary during my time in the Army or my two tours in Iraq. I did my job. I had good days and I had bad days. Yes, on really bad days things were nasty and might involve multiple fiery explosions or being under severely oppressive heat for hours, wearing a full kit. Despite these hardships, I tried, generally, to do as good a job as I could while serving, and I left military service honorably. Even though I didn’t participate in any solitary acts of heroism, like jumping on a grenade or being the guy who got Osama bin Laden, there are many who would say I am a hero for doing what others would not while putting myself at extreme risk.

I understand the sentiment, and I trust that there are those who truly believe that all service members are heroes, simply for signing up. But I can’t help think that for some, “hero” is a throw-away word, designed to demonstrate a “support the troops” position or guarantee applause at an event.

For this new generation of veterans, the term “hero” usually comes partnered with the decision to join the military during a time of war, after 9/11, when deployment to Iraq or Afghanistan was all but guaranteed. I unheroically joined before 9/11, in April 2001, having barely graduated high school and after a semester toying with community college. My goal was to straighten myself out and figure out what I wanted out of life, while being somewhat productive and useful. In the Army I joined, the dreaded assignment was not a 15-month deployment to the “Triangle of Death” or Helmand province, but a yearlong “hardship” tour to South Korea or peacekeeping duty in Kosovo.

The peacetime Army I joined disappeared while I was in Airborne school at Fort Benning on Sept. 11, 2001. I was only a trainee, fresh out of basic training, but I saw it in the faces of the lifers; the Army just got real. Years later, in conversations about my service, I’m often asked when I joined, and being young, I can sense that the inquisitor anticipates the response that I joined after 9/11, fully knowing the dangerous consequences that I would have faced. They are ready to applaud me for being so brave. I can see their enthusiasm wash from their face when I inform them that, no, I did not join knowing I would go to war. “But surely you would have joined after 9/11, right?” Not actually knowing the answer to that question, I can only respond with, “I don’t know.” “Well, you’re a hero anyway…,” they say.

I don’t feel comfortable being called a hero. In fact, my brow furrows and my mind sharpens when I hear it. Words matter, and “hero” is so loaded and used so frequently that it stands to lose its meaning altogether. Maybe this is just New York cynicism, but I know I’m not the only veteran who feels skeptical when he or she is placed in the hero bin along with every other service member from the past 10 years. I admire the fact that men and women with whom I served chose a dangerous profession for their country – often making the decision after 9/11. But, these are soldiers. Soldiers are human beings. There are good ones and bad ones. A few do amazing, heroic things. The rest do their jobs – incredible, unique jobs – but jobs, nonetheless. Some perform happily, others grudgingly. And I argue that most feel embarrassed when lauded as heroes.

This sentiment is especially true, considering there are real heroes out there. Like Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester, the first woman to receive the Silver Star since World War II for her role in crushing an enemy ambush on a supply convoy near Baghdad, helping to kill or capture an enemy force of 30 insurgents. And Staff Sgt. Sal Giunta, whose actions in Afghanistan in 2007 earned him the Medal of Honor, becoming the first living recipient of the award for this generation of veterans. He will soon be joined by Sgt. First Class Leroy Petry, who, after being shot through both of his legs, lost his hand in an attempt to throw back an enemy grenade in Afghanistan in 2008. His selfless action prevented his fellow Rangers from being wounded or killed.

Men and women like these are my heroes. To call everyone who puts on a uniform a hero cheapens these extraordinary actions. My fear is that being called a hero has become the new “thank you for your service.” That line, also awkwardly received by veterans everywhere, at least makes sense. Our nation has an all-volunteer military and military service can be tough, especially during war, so a thank you is appropriate and in good order.

Calling everyone a hero is unfair to the real heroes who accomplish extraordinary things. It’s also unfair to the rest of us who do important work, only to have it wiped away by being equated to the work of everyone else. Yes, people’s hearts are in the right place when they call us heroes. But I’d much rather a person struggle to understand what military service is all about, rather than just assume it’s all heroic, all the time. In a country where so few people serve in a military that plays such a prominent role in global affairs, a little understanding can go a long way.



Don Gomez is an Iraq War veteran and spokesman for Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America. He served two tours in Iraq with the 82nd Airborne Division in 2003 and 2005. You can follow him on Twitter @dongomezjr.