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The Introduction Protocol: How to Ask a Veteran About Their Military ServiceRead more at theveterananthropologist.com.au | 21 April 2026 Some veterans introduce themselves as a barista, an athlete, a marketing guru or Lego collector. One guy told people he worked at Bunnings, while he was in Defence, because it was his dream job and he spent more hours there than anywhere else. The best I’ve seen is Paralympian Matty Brumby, who rotates his response: “…people will say, “oh, you’re an athlete,” but what happens if I get injured or lose a race? Do I become a part-time athlete? Only an athlete when I’m good and when I’m not, I’m nothing? Because I’m not just an athlete. I’m also retired, disabled, a veteran, a son, and sometimes I’m in sales—well, that’s what I occasionally put on forms when I feel like mixing it up and reminding myself I’m more than one thing that I can do.” The problem is identity, the multi-coloured tapestry woven by a squillion people and wrapped around us from the moment we’re born. Over time it stretches and shrinks, gets stained, ripped, patched and replaced. But that’s a topic for another day. When you hear the identity “veteran”, many people think of an old white man. I know I did. Veterans were men like my grandfather, those who served in either WW1, WW2, Korea or Vietnam. After my own military career, I still felt the same, rejecting the title in favour of “ex-service woman”. When a young person calls themselves a veteran, another word often gets added: “broken”. Identity also extends to the work you do. You don’t have to think beyond infantry “grunts” to feel the weight of such a persona. When I tell people I was an intelligence analyst, I cop one of two reactions. Some are impressed. They yell, “You were a spy!?” after which we have a lengthy conversation about the difference between James Bond and reality, as well as the importance of analysis. Others feel the need to explain that glorified admin—the only role females are capable of—isn’t intelligence, important or a worthwhile contribution to Defence. Veterans tell people they’re someone else to avoid being boxed into predetermined identities that are full of false assumptions. It’s also nice dodging the interrogation about your military service by those who don’t get it. And to avoid the question “Have you ever killed anyone?”—which gets asked more than it should. These conversations are confronting and hard to control. You feel yourself mentally and socially spiral, dreading the next engagement, which makes it easy to stay at home to escape the world. That doesn’t mean you should avoid asking veterans about their military service. It’s an important conversation to have to help them feel seen and heard, bridge the gap between what you know and the reality of military service in Australia, and discover we’ve experienced much of the same, just in different settings. It doesn’t matter that one leopard crawled while the other bused to uni. Both sucked, and that’s the key to finding connection—discovering the same sentiments, bad and good. So, let’s scrap the “What did you do in Defence” question and try a different introduction protocol that’ll help you discover how someone became the person they are today. The Introduction Protocol:Why did you join Defence?
What did you like about it?
What didn’t you like about it?
If you could start again, what would you do differently and why?*
If you’re a veteran getting to know a civvie, just adjust like this: Why did you [go down the apprenticeship/uni path /travel to Cambodia/start a business]?
What did you like about it?
What didn’t you like about it?
If you could start again, what would you do differently and why?*
It’s a simple set of four questions that’ll open dialogue so you can get to know the person. It’s more important to learn who someone is and how they got there (their characteristics), than what job they did. However, every now and again you’ll come across a veteran who struggles to talk about their military service. You’ll know it when you see it. They’ll sit with their back protected by a wall and where they can see the door. Their eyes will dart around, taking everything in. They’ll listen more than they’ll talk. When they do talk, it’ll be like dragging a boulder up a hill. They might be sweaty, red-faced or tap their foot. There are so many signs for social anxiety. Trust your gut. If you feel they’re uncomfortable, they probably are. Asking them the full introduction protocol could either start flow between you or scare them off. Instead, try this opener: “I want to ask you about your military service, but I’m worried about upsetting you. Are you able to tell me if it’s triggering to talk about?” Beautiful. This pearler came from my mum, who after twelve years of attack-mode finally offered something considerate that allowed us to talk about my military service without it ending in an argument. I appreciated her change of approach and told her so. It was our best conversation yet. The ADF is growing, which means our veteran population is also growing. Right now, veterans make up approximately 2% of Australians. It’s the perfect time to find new ways to talk to each other and realise we’re on the same side—we just do it in different, complementary ways. Because service never dies.
*This is my favourite question. I ask it at every presentation, whether it be a workshop, seminar, keynote or networking event. On the back of the others, it helps the person distil their experiences into one gem of a lesson while sharing their motivation behind it. My favourite answer is “Nothing.” It tells me the person has grown through adversity into someone greater than they would’ve been without it. As Ryan Holiday teaches us in his book—The Obstacle is the Way. But, beware the person and the answer who hasn’t experienced and overcome adversity. |
A free weekly newsletter that decodes Australian veterans and post-service life