In my lifetime, I’ve seen many. I was not aware of them as they came from Vietnam, since I was barely starting to scream and kick my way into this world, but as I grew up, I knew all about them. They were a weird bunch, some of them too quiet for comfort, others not quite. They hardly spoke about IT, and when they did- strange enough- they didn’t regret it. Don’t get me wrong, some of them were bitter, obsessed, angry with a country that did not get it. They might have frowned upon the circumstances, but none of them to whom I spoke to would have done differently. They fought their way through hell and madness for their buddies. Looking back on it, they made me redefine friendship.
As a little girl I over heard my grandparents talking about it. It was everywhere, from the Philippines to the heart of Europe. It was a war that was justified and uncontested in it’s righteousness. They served aboard ships and as foot soldiers and established the United States of America as a beacon among nations. They did it because it was in their hands- the hands of brave men who walked into harm’s way, not only for their country, but for all countries. Those men who took the step achieved their goal, destroying the enemy and shaping the world as we now know it. Besides being eternally grateful and looking back on it, they made me redefine courage.
I was 17 years old when my father told me it was his duty to leave. The Gulf was a short war, perhaps one of the shortest and just when we thought it was time to return, he stayed. He served for a whole year because no matter if people try to convince you otherwise, there is compassion and duty and honor and all the best is brought forward when the last shot is fired. My father served and then stayed with the Army Corps of Engineers, not only because it was required, but because it was the right thing to do. Sometimes the idea of winning hearts and minds is not a cynical political statement, is a exercise of humanity. That is what keeps you going, even if you miss the comfort and the warmth of home. Looking back on it, my dad made me redefine compromise.
On September 11, 2001, as I came out of the initial shock, the first word to escape my mouth was "mercy"... and in a moment of pure selfishness I thought "Thank you, thank you dear Lord, dad is not active anymore". However, I still saw them leave- friends, family, complete strangers. They signed their lives into Afghanistan and Iraq to fight a war as we have never seen. As I see them come back and hear their stories, it strikes me how similar they are to those before them. Those who return are blessed with their lives and afflicted by that they leave behind. However, they keep going back as we wait for a final safe return. In all honesty, they have it all against them. Most outlets savor every opportunity to point out the strategic failures, the collateral damage and the ill intents. And yet they keep going back, doing their thing, keeping us safe, earning the right to be a US Veteran, because they don’t do it for themselves, they don’t do it for 15 minutes of cable news fame. They do it for duty, for country, they do it for the guy standing beside them and they do it for us, so we don’t have to go through what they have to. Looking back on it this ongoing generation of veterans it made me redefine pride.
Thank you.
"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy
PS- Courtesy of the Litte History Corner: I did not forget the "Forgotten War" (Korea) it is just that this is sorta like a chronological essay that relates my connection to family veterans and none of my guys ever went there. Nevertheless, if some one gives you a a tiny flower at a supermarket this weekend and tells you to remember, dust off your history books, they did their part, fighting the "commies" when they were really scary....
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