Today, in the United States, is known as Veterans' Day. It is a day meant to honor all Veterans of the US military, whether dead or alive. It's kind of funny, actually, that I should be a veteran myself because tomorrow, when Veteran's Day is observed by closing Federal offices and banks, is also my birthday. But to day is what I call Veterans' Day Actual.
So, I want to take a few moments to give a "Shout Out" to all my fellow vets, both active and inactive. Let's everyone in the United States take a few moments to say thanks and give hugs and show our love for those who either volunteered to put their lives on the line for the freedoms that we take for granted, and to send our love to all those who were drafted at one time, and those who never came home, and, of course, to those, like my father and General Patton, who made it home but are now dead.
My father served two tours in Viet nam. He was a helicopter mechanic, and a door-gunner on a Huey, in the USMC, drafted for his first tour but he volunteered for his second so that one of his brothers would not have to go. His best friend, who had been stationed with Anglico, once told my father that he should just become a grunt because, as the door-gunner, he had had so many helicopters shot out from under him.
There was a house that the Marine patrol had always been told was owned by friendlies, so they were not to touch it. But, from what I understand, my father had always had a bad feeling about it. One day, while out on patrol with his squad, my father acted upon his suspicions. I don't know if he saw something or if he was just going on his gut instincts, but they destroyed the house and its occupants. My father was up on charges, was about to face serious penalties, when evidence was produced showing the occupants to acutally have been in league with the Viet Cong. Not only was he exonerated of any wrong-doing, he was awarded the Navy Cross for his quick thinking and his actions. It just goes to show that not all Marines obey orders without question all the time. And, that sometimes that disobedience has a far better outcome.
But, Viet Nam was an upopular conflict. Because my father died before I was two years old, I will never hear his stories from his lips, about the war itself and the various problems involved in coming home, even if he wanted to tell them. But I am certain he did not have it easy upon his return home. I have heard tales of alcoholism, drugs, crazy and stupid stunts. People spitting on veterans, calling them baby-killers. So many things that the civilians here did not know that happened there. So many protestors not taking the time to realize that it was the very soldiers they spat upon that ensured they had their right to protest, their right to free speech. He and my mother were divorced, and I get different stories from my mother, my grandmother and even my god-father, about what my father was like and the things he did. I have enven heard a story of him trying to force my mother, and little baby me in her car, off the road with his car.
But, I know one thing. My father, for all of his faults and problems, was a dedicated, loyal and brave Marine who did his duty in wartime, even to the point of disobeying orders in order to do what he thought was right and necessary. For that, I have to say he is my hero. even though I was not old enough to truly know him when he died, I can say I love him and I am who I am because of the influence he still had over my life despite his absence.
My own war stories are pretty boring. I was in a Kentucky Army National Guard Military Police company activated to go to the Persian Gulf in 1991. We spent our first two months in the desert pulling Battlefield Circulation and Control along an 80 mile stretch of Main Supply Route just an hour's drive south of the Iraqi border. During that time, there were over 120 American deaths from traffic accidents along that stretch of highway; I don't even want to guess how many civilians of various countries were killed. I spent most of my time in a tent acting as the dispatcher for a platoon of MP's while they patrolled the road and the desert around it. My job involved a lot of radio calls for Medevac helicopters and ambulances to respond to TA's and other accidents.
I remember one call involving the collision of two tractor-rigs, one hauling an M1A1 Abrams main battle tank. When the two trucks, one driven by Phillipinos, the other by Egyptians, the trailer with the tank kept going. The momentum on 80 tons of metal is hard to stop. Nineteen people were killed in just that one accident. There are others that I remember, others I heard about from other platoons, other accidents that were had to respond to that did not involve vehicles. But, there were a lot of deaths along that stretch of highway.
No, I never got a chance to show my true mettle in war. After those first two months in the desert, we spent two minths pulling Garrison Duty in Riyadh, guarding the Army side of the base there, and acting as General Schwarzkoff's security. After that, we were shipped off to Dammam Port, guarding the docks and assisting the Coast Guard as they guarded the water; we even had our own Untouchables, a group of MP's pulled to go out and find the local "moonshiners" and put them out of business (Saudi Arabia is an alcohol-free country). Then, we spent two months on Garrison Duty at King Khalid Military City, policing our troops there and acting as Liaisons with the Saudi troops living there. A little over eight months in the war-zone, and only three people had fired a shot; one of which was an accidental discharge.
It wasn't until after I returned home, about three years, that I got my chance to show my own heroism. Not that I set out to be a hero. I just saw something happening that was not right and I stepped up to take a stand against it. That stand cost me my apartment, the hearing in my right ear, and nearly my life. I am not a "fighter" or a "scrapper". Violence is something I abhor. But, I'm not above using it or getting involved in it should I have to. Nor am I above killing should it be necessary to save a life. I lost a lot that day, but I did what I felt was needed and would not hesitate to step up again today. I would just be smarter about it.
So, remember, folks, even those of you not living in the United States but still living in the "Free World", you are able to wake up everyday and go about living your lives because of soldiers who are willing to put their lives on the line for those of you who cannot or will not do so for yourselves. There is an inherent nobility in being a soldier that crosses the boundaries of class, economics, politics and religion. Nobility is not in a birthright. It is not in a title. It is not in wealth. Or fame. it is the heart. It is in the spirit. It is in the sacrifice for the lives and well-being of others.
So, I want everyone of you who read this blog to thank every veteran you meet today, and everday. Thank them. Hug them. Tell them you love them and are grateful to them for their sacrifice. Whether they have seen combat or not, in a war-zone or at home, peacetime or wartime, they are there to ensure that you have your right to "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness". Remember that those rights were not bought with money. They were not given as a gift. They were paid for in blood, sweat and tears by soldiers.
Freedom is not free. And it is the Soldier, the Sailor, the Airman and The Marine, citizens all, who pay that price for you.
