The year is 2021, and by now, the South African Border War should be firmly in our past. Yet, for many, that past remains stubbornly present. We strive to live in the here and now, but the memories relentlessly resurface.

In a WhatsApp group I administer, a friend called Joe shared this on December 31, 2020: "Blokes, it’s been 37 years, and it still haunts me that we lost so many good men. Regular chaps with regular hopes and dreams — men like a Steenkamp or a Pretorius."

Today, in business, we meticulously practice 'expectation management'. We understand that our communication creates expectations, and getting it wrong can backfire. We choose our words carefully, aiming to underpromise and overdeliver.

But in times of war, the rules are different.

In conflict, words are weapons used to motivate young troops to achieve the extraordinary under dire circumstances. The problem was that, at eighteen or nineteen, we simply couldn’t judge those words. Today, we look back and wonder: why did we believe it all?

I vividly recall a speech our captain gave during basic training. I was so moved, I knew I would follow him to hell and back. It made an indelible impression. Years later, I read the original address: the captain had simply recycled John F. Kennedy’s speech to American troops heading for Vietnam.

I felt betrayed.

Now, I understand the desperation of our leaders; they would use any rhetoric, true or untrue, to keep us fighting. Ultimately, the politicians nullified our efforts and revealed their true colours.

We trusted that someone would look out for us, that treatment for PTSD and other conditions would be available. It wasn’t. We trusted that a well-negotiated peace would guarantee a level playing field for everyone. That never materialised.

However, some veterans have found the inner strength to confront the demons of the past. I see them reaching out to support others, giving them the vocabulary they need to articulate their feelings. This doesn't alter what happened. But it does restore their power of choice today. It helps them turn the focus ring on the lens to see the wider world around them.

We were indelibly formed by what happened when we were young. We hold pride in that experience and will never forget our past. But today, as we look at our spouses, children, and grandchildren, we know the focus ring has shifted. Our true work now is to ensure the next generation is given a future and hope.