What happens when the battlefield goes silent....but the war doesn’t end?
When soldiers come home, not to parades, but to tribunals. Not to healing, but to headlines....facing allegations, suspicion, and public misunderstanding.
We trained them to fight, to kill, to survive as lions.
We then expect them to return as house cats. Docile. Tamed. Grateful?
But war doesn’t unmake itself. Combat rewires the mind and body. And without an invisible switch, a path to retrain, reframe, and reintegrate, many veterans face a different kind of battle.
The war within.
It’s rarely the generals or politicians who suffer ... it is the soldier.
We are talking about the moral fog of war, not just the action and the tactics. When we watch films online these days about war, do we ever ask ourselves:
“What would I do if I were there?”
And this is the guts of the matter.
Modern soldiers often walk a razor’s edge between following orders, protecting themselves and their comrades, and staying within the laws of war… all while being judged by people who’ve never seen combat.
The line between warrior and criminal can become blurry when viewed from a distance. Yet, they’re the ones asked to go into chaotic, ethically murky situations, sometimes with unclear objectives or shifting rules of engagement.
There's also a disconnect these days between society and its military. In earlier generations, say, after WWII, returning soldiers were met with public respect and gratitude. Now, especially after Iraq and Afghanistan, public opinion has become as murky as a dark day in the Washington Swamp.
What’s cruel is that many soldiers don’t choose the wars, they just carry the burden of them.
In the heat of battle, what does that even mean? When you’re under fire, trying to survive or protect civilians while also identifying threats, the moral compass becomes near-impossible. And after the fact, decisions are judged with the clarity of hindsight and the comfort of safety.
The situation with the Australian SAS in Afghanistan is a perfect and deeply confronting example of this.
Those soldiers were thrown into some of the most intense, murky, ( yes, I am using the word murky a lot, but it somehow feels right ) and morally ambiguous battle environments in modern history. Fighting an enemy that doesn’t wear uniforms, hides among civilians, uses children as shields, and stages ambushes from villages... it’s not like anything from a textbook or training manual. Yet when they returned home, they were subject to the full glare of legal scrutiny, media sensationalism, and public opinion from people who’ve never faced a life-or-death decision in a dusty alley or sunburned canyon halfway around the world.
The Brereton Report really shook things up. It alleged war crimes, but it also acknowledged the incredibly high-stress conditions and failures of leadership and oversight. Some felt it was necessary to restore public faith in the military and uphold the rules of engagement. Others saw it as a betrayal of men who were sent to do society’s dirty work and then hung out to dry.
I have to say this : If we send people to war, we have a duty to understand the hell we put them in and through ... and to show some humility when judging their actions. And some commonsense and compassion. No, we can never empthaise because we have not lived their reality. But we surely can sympathise?
I wonder if civil courts are the right place to pass judgement on those whose lives we cannot even begin to comprehend.
When it comes to actions taken in combat, civilian courts lack the understanding needed to fairly assess a soldier’s decisions. Split-second choices, combat stress, the rules of engagement, the chain of command.... these are not easily interpreted by civilian judges or juries who haven't worn a uniform or operated in a warzone.
Military courts, on the other hand, are staffed by people who understand the complexities of combat. They can distinguish between a deliberate act of cruelty and a tragic mistake made under fire.
Or, at least, they should. They SHOULD be better placed to evaluate how clear the mission was, what intelligence the soldier had, and whether they were following orders or acting rogue.
But do they? With DEI in place, who knows?
We train them to survive hell, to suppress fear, to act without hesitation in the face of chaos. We teach them to spot threats, respond with deadly force, and put the mission above emotion. And then we bring them home and expect them to reintegrate into a society that doesn't understand where they’ve been, what they’ve seen, or what they've had to become to survive.
Worse still, when they do act on instincts that were drilled into them, they can be punished for it by people who’ve never faced a life-or-death situation, let alone pulled a trigger with lives on the line.
It’s not just the trauma of war. It’s the disconnect of being a trained warrior dropped back into a world where that training is no longer seen as heroic, but potentially dangerous or criminal. That psychological whiplash destroys marriages, breaks minds, and leaves many veterans feeling alienated, even betrayed.
There’s also very little real deprogramming. A few weeks of decompression, maybe a mental health chat, and then off you go... figure it out. But switching off the “combat brain,” isn’t like powering down a machine. It’s wired in through repetition, fear, adrenaline, and duty. It doesn’t just go away because the war ended.
Which makes one wonder: how do we build a society that honours its soldiers without glorifying war? That holds people accountable without crucifying them for doing what we trained them to do?
Well, here is my solution.
I nominate Rugby.
Team sports like rugby are more than just games. They're structured, physical, demanding, and, crucially, they offer a brotherhood that mirrors military bonds. In a match, you're relying on your mates, pushing your limits, channeling aggression with purpose, and walking off the field drained, not on edge. For a soldier transitioning from a warzone to peacetime, that kind of outlet could be a lifesaver.
Frustration without a release often leads to damage, especially in high-pressure, hyper-vigilant minds like those of returning soldiers. Domestic abuse, bar fights, substance abuse, depression - often, they're misfired coping mechanisms for emotional overload, isolation, or the inability to express what they’ve been through.
A structured, physical, team-oriented outlet gives that pent-up intensity somewhere to go, and perhaps more importantly, it keeps the soldier connected to others who understand. That camaraderie can be the difference between staying grounded and slipping off the rails.
Returning from high-intensity combat zones must be one of the most difficult transitions a person can face. Soldiers leave behind a tightly bonded brotherhood, a clear chain of command, and a structured environment where purpose is constant and identity is clear.
I am told that one of the most profound losses soldiers report after discharge is the deep sense of comradeship found in active service. Rugby Union, like the military, is built on trust, teamwork, and shared struggle. Players rely on each other through every phase of the game, just as soldiers rely on their unit in the field. The pack is only as strong as its weakest link, and that philosophy is ingrained in both worlds.
Combat service demands intensity, controlled aggression, and peak physical exertion. Rugby channels this in a socially acceptable and disciplined environment. Tackling, scrummaging, and rucking provide safe, rule-bound outlets for aggression.
The rituals and routines of rugby....training sessions, warm-ups, play execution, and strategy meetings....mirror the ordered systems of military life. Rugby has captains, coaches, and team roles, resembling the military's command structure. This familiar structure can make the transition smoother, as it provides consistency and order in a civilian setting.
Rugby is therapy by another name.
It is time we recognised the unique power of sport in reintegration. Let rugby be the game that welcomes our heroes home.
Oh and I would love you to send this to President Trump. No point in sending it to Albo or the new PM in Canada. They are too busy worrying about their own arses than to worry about our soldiers.
Maybe Heston Russell and Ben Roberts Smith have a few words to say? For me, let's bring on the new Bledisloe Cup: Teams from all countries who have fought for freedom and play it out on the Rugby field.
And hell, what about commentary from Israel Folau? Wouldn't that send the politicians bonkers? But at the end of the day, it isn't up to us, is it?
