I agree that in many cases a turn to religious sources can help people. I have seen this in people in distress in my own life.
However, we cannot find the answer to the question of human evil in a book. To go to war is to, by definition, encounter the worst depths of human behavior. Life, in war, is cheap. People randomly die while others randomly live. There is no reward for good behavior, and the best of people often die because they are "good people" who put the survival of others ahead of themselves. This very randomness, this very measure of chaos and existence without "a purpose-drive life" is the essence of war. Embracing war embraces a life lived without the possibility of redemptive action or recourse to redemptive love. It is the void or the abyss, a state that allows only for it's own mere existence.
The Battle of Tarawa, part of the Pacific campaign of WWII, occurred 66 years ago this week. My father was a Radioman and part of the Naval Force that transported and accompanied the Marine invasion of that small atoll. Tarawa was a horrible, bitter, excruciating battle with extensive repercussions for the rest of the war in the Pacific. Part of those repercussions were the realization of just how awful and hard-fought the taking of the Pacific was going to be. The human cost of this invasion was horrific and absolutely shocking for an American command structure to absorb.
My father never got over what happened in those 4 days at Tarawa. It was a part of his soul from the time he fought to land on the beach there to the day he died. His experience at Tarawa was so awful, so damaging to his very soul that he was unable to cope with it. He spent months at a hospital in Hawaii with "battle fatigue" which was, in itself, a source of internal horror and conflict to him. (Real men get over what happens in war. He never forgave himself for not getting over it.)
My Dad was a Catholic. His comfort was a strong belief in the various incarnations of "Our Lady, Mother of Sorrows" and "Our Lady of Perpetual Suffering." He sought, in his appeals to "Our Lady" a gentle form of forgiveness sometimes at the same time he rejected it because his actions had made him unforgivable. He went on with his life, married, fathered 8 children, participated in civic life and lived. But the sorrow, the depression, the sudden moments when he was back at Tarawa, never went away.
I loved my Dad and loved the gentle man who loved poetry and preached kindness and understanding and forgiveness. I loved the man who read "The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath" to me. I loved the man who needed mercy and forgiveness even as I struggled with how to give it to him. I bet there are daughters and sons of those coming back from Afghanistan and Iraq who will struggle as I did with their parents. It lasts forever. It never stops and it never really heals; at best, you learn how to live with it and learn how to love around it.
PTSD is a real thing. It affects real people. It will be one of the lasting affects of our going to war over the last few years and a lasting legacy on untold numbers of returning soldiers, but also on their families who struggle to love those who wander in fog from time to time. Religion can indeed be a comfort, but it cannot erase all. Love, religious or otherwise, cannot erase some wounds, no matter how much we wish it could. We, as a nation, have to be aware of that and embrace this as a "cost of war" and be there for our wounded. These hurts are not a matter of loss of will or weakness, they are the very essence of being human and we have to commit to helping, as best we can, with getting our veterans through this. For them, and for all the daughters and sons who will wander the edges of the abyss from time to time, wondering what to do and how to render comfort and mercy, we have to commit to long-term care and research on this problem.
http://www.bostoncatholic.org/Being-Catholic/Content.aspx?id=11446">A Prayer for the Dead
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord, Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears attend to the voice of my supplication.
...
O Lord, hear my prayer. And let my cry come to you.
O God, creator and redeemer of all the faithful, grant to the souls of your departed servants the forgiveness of all their sins.
Through my prayer, may they obtain the pardon they have always desired. Amen