It’s happening again. We sit, either glued to our television screens or reluctant to click the button that brings the pictures into view. One way or another, grim scenes and dire pronouncements color the thoughts of our days and the dreams of our nights. War, another war, is happening.

Casualties, MIA, POW, guerrilla warfare, relentless bombing, battle; these are the words we hear over and over. Heart-wrenching photos cover our front pages. Live coverage of burning, bombing, shooting, crying and dying is available 24 hours a day. Lives lost, injuries sustained, $74 billion appropriated, the costs are enormous. Unnoticed amid these huge payments lurks the hidden legacy of war.

Another generation of young men and women is cast into the crucible that will mold their beings and forever mark their minds and hearts. Exposure to the unthinkable, actions both heroic and cowardly, taken in moments of terror and madness, are scenes that will be replayed, again and again, usually silently, for a lifetime.

My father is 80 years old. I visited him yesterday. I saw, once again, the haunted look in his pale blue eyes, as he clicked the remote to turn off his television. How many times in my 58 years have I seen that look? He is a World War II veteran, recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Medal. The very first time I remember seeing him like that was when I was about 3. I can still picture him in a red hat and camel-colored coat, coming home from a visit to the doctor, and saying to my mother, “He says it’s battle fatigue, Mim.”

I must have looked too solemn or too interested, because I was hustled off “to play,” before the discussion continued. That didn’t exempt me from the ups and downs of life with a dad who couldn’t sleep at night, and would often sit, drink in hand, staring off into the distance, looking strangely like he wanted to cry.

I saw it again frequently during first and second grade as the Korean War came and went. Vietnam produced further torment with its graphic news coverage. Thankfully, Desert Storm went quickly. And now, there is Iraq. Unfortunately, the memories of horror, stored forever, and closely guarded from the scrutiny of others, don’t surface just in times of new war. They are present every day, affecting the life of their holder and the lives of his family.

What would life have been like for my family and countless other World War II, Korean, Vietnam and Gulf War veterans’ families if dads never had those experiences? I honor their call to duty; I grieve the hidden cost.

Now another generation of parents and future parents is experiencing the horror and the terror, making the decisions, performing the actions, that they will examine and question and struggle with forever. Another generation of children will come to know that haunted look.

Post-traumatic stress disorder, the medical name for the haunted look, or what was once known as battle fatigue, can be treated, if acknowledged and recognized. There should be no stigma in seeking help to carry the heavy burden of war experiences. No veteran should have to cope privately and silently while his life and the lives of his family are affected by these dark memories.

This war will end, but war is never over for those who have fought in it. Let us limit this hidden legacy by actively acknowledging this issue and encouraging treatment for it.

Carol M. Hubbell, LCSW lives in Palmyra.