By James Carden, CCI
I recently read a piece in The War Horse by Michael Hyon Johnson titled "A Marine Father, an Air Force Son, and the Distance Between Them." As a veteran, a son, and a songwriter, Michael’s words hit me with the force of a full ruck. It was more than a story; it was a rhythmic lament a cadence of understanding that echoes through generations of service.
Michael’s article masterfully captures the complex inheritance of military life. His father, a Marine, forged by trauma and discipline, passed down a legacy of endurance. Michael, an Air Force son, sought his own path, consciously choosing a different branch, but finding himself still running, still searching for purpose, still striving to keep pace with a shadow that defines as much as it inspires.
The Generational Ruck:
This dynamic is deeply familiar. In my own family, service is a thread woven through generations:
My grandfather: Army, World War II
My uncle: Marine Corps
My father: Navy, Vietnam
Myself: Air Force (Special Operations, Law Enforcement)
Each of us answered the call, guided by a similar internal compass a drive for purpose, structure, and a way to shape ourselves as young men. Yet, each of us also broke a different trail, chose a distinct path. Military service isn't about perfectly copying the ancestors who went before; it's about exploring what it means to be a veteran for yourself. The initial training happens on active duty, but the true learning and wisdom often come after you shed the uniform and begin the lifelong process of "walking the labyrinth" of civilian life.
The Blue Hour and the Vagal Switch:
What struck me most in Michael's piece was the vivid imagery of the “blue hour” that predawn quiet where introspection meets unspoken tension. It's a liminal space many of us know well, a time when the "Amygdala Loop" (as I've discussed in "The Warrior's Output") can be most insistent. Michael's father, constantly running, trying to outpace his own past traumas, inadvertently passed down a pattern of hyper-arousal, a "Vagal Switch" stuck in the "on" position.
But Michael also shows us the moment of breakthrough. The moment when he hears his own cruel words echoed back, sees the same pain in a younger man's eyes, and stops. "I apologized." This is the critical juncture of healing the recognition that the old coping mechanisms, the constant forward motion, are no longer serving. It's the beginning of a different kind of output.
Art as Legacy and Healing:
Inspired by Michael’s raw honesty and the profound message of his family's journey, I felt compelled to do what I do best: turn lament into song. Using the principles of the Davidic Protocol, I wrote and recorded a track titled "The Blue Hour (One Foot After Another)," a musical tribute to his article. It's a song meant to honor the disciplined endurance passed down through generations, and the hard-won wisdom that allows us to eventually forge our own path to healing.
It is a reminder that the learning and wisdom of service don't end when the uniform comes off. They continue as we navigate life, finding new ways to heal, to connect, and to thrive.