Thanks, Dad ... and all who have worn the uniform
Next Tuesday is Veterans Day, the day we remember all those who have and do serve our country in the military. Flags will pop up on lawns and in parks, scouts will perform flag ceremonies while the TV, the Internet, and newspapers will feature images of heroes -- some young and others not so young.
Former military personnel are all around us. They're moms, dads, brothers, uncles, friends and colleagues. Most don't brag about their experience, although if you ask they might just tell you how they served. One might have been a combat soldier or pilot, another a logistics officer or even a medic. Believe it or not you might even meet a former spy -- I've met three. I could tell you who, but then I'd have to kill you.
No matter how they served, each one would appreciate a simple handshake and a sincere thanks. People who serve deserve our respect and honoring them is cool, but that wasn't always so.
Anyone growing up in the 70s remembers that during and after the Vietnam War, veterans weren't treated with the same respect we show them today. That was a shame, too, because not only were Vietnam veterans scorned, Korean War veterans were completely ignored, except in the satirical caricatures of the M*A*S*H TV series. And the 70s decade also saw the quiet passing of many who survived World War I. Whether true or not, it simply seemed that the public took a holiday from acknowledging our veterans.
The first veteran I ever met was my dad. He was in World War II. A year before Pearl Harbor, he enlisted in the navy at the age of 17. Dad was predominantly stationed on shore but he did have a short stint on a light cruiser (the only time he saw action). He filled many roles during the war -- he was a yeoman, a pharmacist mate, and finally a Master At Arms for a naval hospital in Corpus Christi. He fought, he treated and cared for wounded, and he kept order and regulation in a base hospital.
By his honorable discharge in 1946, he earned the Good Conduct Medal, recommendations from commanding officers, and achieved the rank of Chief Petty Officer. Not bad for a kid off the fields of Refugio, Texas.
Much of what I know about Dad's service came from his Navy service record. Like most war veterans, his stories about his Navy years were peripheral rather than about his actual experience of war. They typically surfaced when we hung out watching old war movies around Memorial Day and, of course, Veterans Day.
Along with my brothers, I'll think of Dad next Tuesday. One brother will flip through Dad's photo logbook, another will pull out a few of the Japanese coins Dad came home with, and I'll wear his WWII victory pin on my lapel. My sons will ask about their granddad as they don their scout uniforms for a flag ceremony. I have a few stories to share with a smile. And the most important is that we can raise our flag because my dad and so many more throughout our history have signed up and served.
Thanks to all our veterans for watching our backs.
Copyright 2008 by David Falloure
