On Veteran's Day

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to talk with a veteran of the United States Navy who also happens to be a Pearl Harbor survivor. This was rather poignant being that it was Veteran's Day weekend and that there are fewer and fewer World War II veterans living. Vere Gardner, my wife's maternal grandfather proudly served on the USS Salt Lake City, the ship that took part in more engagements than any other ship in the fleet. By his own account, he witnessed with his own eyes the attack on Pearl Harbor , during which he happened to be on shore, and the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima (yes, the famous picture).

While it was fantastic to hear from Vere about his experiences, the veteran that I still admire the most is my father. During the Vietnam War, a massive draft took place in order to recruit the troops necessary. My father, instead of waiting to see if he would be drafted, took it upon himself to enlist in the United States Army. This has been a great point of pride for me in my father.

My father hasn't told us, or at least me (I suppose I shouldn't speak for all of the kids) much about his time in Vietnam. The only stories I remember him telling us about Vietnam were funny stories most often from while he was on leave. The only times I have been able to learn anything about his service has been from letters of commendation and citation award letters and clippings from my dad's old hometown newspaper of articles about his citations that my mom has tucked away.

I never understood his reluctance to talk about his service until we visited Washington, D.C. as a family. We were touring the National Mall and Memorial Parks and were approaching the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. As you begin to approach the memorial, the sidewalk forks with one arm leading down to the memorial and the other leading up toward the rest off the mall with the first arm joining back up later. As we approached the fork, we all started down toward the Vietnam memorial but my dad slowly peeled off and kept walking towards the rest of the mall. Not knowing what else to do, I remember simply standing at the wall and staring at the names. I touched a couple of them, though they held no personal significance to me. I remember thinking that there were names somewhere on there of people that my dad knew and fought with. People that he laughed with, and then mourned with, and then mourned over. While the thought had come to me before when considering my father's service, this was the first time it deeply impacted me that one more than a few occasions, a couple of seconds, a flip-of-the-coin decision, and pure luck meant that someone else's name was on there and not my father's. There was probably someone's name up there who offered to trade my dad positions and thus etched their name on that wall over his. That was when I first started to see how potent and powerful his memories of his service still are. It was then that I first began to realize how difficult it must be for him to reflect on those he went to Vietnam with and even more so, those he came home without.

I made the decision back in high school after considering the military that it was not the way for me but that should a draft ever be instituted that I am eligible for, I would enlist. While I have never regretted that decision, I often feel that never having served has drawn a line in the extent to which I will be able to identify with and ultimately understand who my father really is like he was able to with his father. There is something there that I have yet to and most likely never will experience and thus internalize. I think that is why I am drawn to occasionally push the line on what movies I view and watch Saving Private Ryan or Band of Brothers[1] or another film that shows war with some semblance of realism, as a way of trying to catch even a glimpse of understanding of what they experienced that made him, for better or worse, who he is.

I hope that at some point my dad will sit down and write about his service, even if it is in a private journal that is not shared until he is no longer with us (which better be a long ways off).

I always feel a bit foolish saying thank you to a veteran. I still tell them but in comparison to all that they have sacrificed and done for this country, and consequently for me, a verbal thank you seems so weak and insufficient. So, I buy a VFW poppy and thank them for their service and hope they know how grateful I truly am.

To any veteran who reads this and especially to my father, thank you for the sacrifices you made and for your service and may you have a very happy Veteran's Day.

Footnote [1]: Yes, I realize that both of those movies are from World War II and that my father served in Vietnam, but until someone comes out with something about Vietnam that portrays the soldiers accurately instead of criminalizing them, they'll have to do.