VENERABLE MEN (AND WOMEN)
A VETERAN REFLECTS
ON VETERANS DAY
I did not give uniformed service to our country in the youthful
days when I might have been most valued for it.
So
I believe Veterans Day doesn’t evoke the response in me that it does for those
who gave over a portion of their life – or in the families of those who died –
in the Armed Forces.
Actually,
I struggle with very ambivalent feelings on Veterans Day.
· My
father did his duty as part of “the greatest generation.” And I recall, even as
a child, I was proud to see his name on the hometown monument honoring veterans
of World War II and moved by the idea that his name was among the lucky service
men without a star next to it denoting their having made the ultimate sacrifice
in service.
· On
what may be the other side of the emotional equation, I am a draft card carrier
from the Vietnam era who, by some quirks of fate, was never called upon to
choose a course of action other than military service. Had I been, I can’t
honestly say what I might have done. I know I lost a number of friends in that
conflict, both to death and trauma. The Memorial Wall in Washington DC never
ceases to move me in indescribable and complex ways.
These are things I
normally hold close.
But today I share them with you in TGIM because a recent little
editorial “opinion” in our local weekly giveaway newspaper, penned by Ed Flynn,
a regular contributor whose writing and insight I often enjoy, encapsulated
much of the ambivalence I suspect many feel.
I’d like to believe his view fairly says what I (and perhaps others) am challenged to articulate.
And Ed has earned the right to say it.
Here
it is, in its entirety.
****
 |
| Ed Flynn |
I always feel a bit guilty on Veterans Day.
Like
many other veterans, particularly those who have seen combat, when I remember
the dead and wounded – as we’re supposed to do on Veterans Day – I can’t help
but wonder; why them and not me?
In
my case, I spent two years in the Pacific during World War II.
Most
of that time was with the Seventh Fleet as a radioman aboard an amphibious
flagship overseeing landings in the Philippines and other Pacific islands.
While
we faced constant Japanese attacks from the air -- and while several ships near
us were hit and sunk, and we were strafed several times ourselves -- our peril
was nothing compared to that of the Marines and soldiers we put ashore on those
beaches.
More
than 400,000 Americans, mostly young boys like me in their late teens or early
20s, never came home from that war, giving their life for our freedom on some
Pacific island or European battlefield.
I
came home.
I
had married before I went overseas to the wonderful girl who would be my wife
for the next 66 years until I lost her two years ago.
We
bought our first home in River Edge NJ with a G.I. mortgage; and we had two
beautiful daughters who grew up to give us three grandchildren who, in turn,
gave us six great-grandchildren.
Like
most families, we had our trials and tribulations in the course of those years.
It
wasn’t always easy but, for the most part, it was a good life, without the
tragedies some other families have had to face.
We
had a life that those who died during our nation’s wars never had a chance to
live.
Now
I’m 90 years old and living alone, forced by arthritis to use a walker to get
around, dependent on my children and grandchildren to perform tasks for me that
once seemed so simple.
Sometimes
it’s hard not to feel sorry for myself.
But,
then I reflect on all the good years I’ve had, thanks to those who never came
home, those whose life ended when they were young -- not just in World War II,
but in World War I and Korea, and Vietnam, and now in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I
thank those who are buried in some cemetery in Normandy where poppies grow, or
whose bodies were returned home in a flag-draped coffin to be interned here; to
those to whom politicians and other orators pay tribute on Veterans Day.
In
World War II, more than 16 million Americans were in uniform.
Tiny
flags were displayed in the windows of almost every home. A blue star indicated
that the boy who lived there was now in service; a gold star indicated that he
would never return home.
The
whole country was mobilized during World War II; women worked in factories
helping to produce tanks and planes; children collected scrap that could be
turned into bullets; gasoline and food were rationed; everyone sacrificed.
Today,
there are more than 60,000 members of our volunteer armed forces in Afghanistan
and elsewhere.
But,
here at home, you would never know we are at war.
Most
families are untouched by the struggle against terrorism. For most, life goes
on as usual.
There
is no draft, no rationing; in fact, no call for sacrifice.
And,
so on this Veterans Day, while you’re enjoying a barbecue, eating a hot dog or
downing a cold beer, you might pause and ask yourself, "Why them?"
Why
not your own son, or daughter, or grandchild?
And,
the next time you hear someone loudly proclaiming how we should put "boots
on the ground" in order to overthrow some foreign dictator, you might want
to ask them, "Whose boots?"
While
you’re at it, you might try to find the time to attend a parade or a memorial
service – if there is one in your community anymore – and say thanks to a
veteran.
Not
that the average veteran is looking for thanks, but he or she will still
appreciate the fact that someone cares.
****
I care, Ed Flynn.
I’m
confident my circle of TGIM friends cares as well.
Thank
you, one and all.
Geoff
Steck
Chief Catalyst
Alexander Publishing & Marketing
Chief Catalyst
Alexander Publishing & Marketing
8
Depot Square
Englewood,
NJ 07631
201-569-5373
tgimguy@gmail.com
201-569-5373
tgimguy@gmail.com
P. S. In 1825 at the laying
of the corner stone for the Bunker Hill Monument, Daniel Webster, perhaps the
most famous orator of the day, was to make the day’s most significant speech.
The crowd estimated at 50,000 included perhaps two hundred gray-haired men,
remnants of the days of the Revolution.
| Daniel Webster with the Bunker Hill Monument in the background |
As
Webster passed these forty in the crowd, it’s reported his voice trembled as he
uttered the words –
“Venerable men.”
