Remembrance

"The country that sent us off to war was not there to welcome us home. It no longer existed. We answered the call of one President who was now dead; we followed the orders of another who would be hounded from office, and haunted, by the war he mismanaged so badly.
Many of our countrymen came to hate the war we fought. Those who hated it the most - the professionally sensitive - were not, in the end, sensitive enough to differentiate between the war and the soldiers who had been ordered to fight it. They hated us as well, and we went to ground in the cross fire, as we had learned in the jungles.
In time our battles were forgotten, our sacrifices were discounted, and both our sanity and our suitability for life in polite American society were publicly questioned. Our young-old faces, chiseled and gaunt from the fever and the heat and the sleepless nights, now stare back at us, lost and damned strangers, frozen in yellowing snapshots packed away in cardboard boxes with our medals and ribbons."
From the prologue of We Were Soldiers Once...and Young by Lt. Gen. Harold G. Moore (Ret.) and Joseph L. Galloway (and yes, I've used this quote before, but it seemed fitting)

Spawned by SFC B's recent post and last night's airing of We Were Soldiers on CBS, I felt compelled to write my own.

I'm a daddy's girl, ask anyone who knows me. I'm a spoiled brat, hence how I earned the nickname 'Princess' at the gym. I've always looked up to my father and I've always felt closer to him than to my mother. He served for in the Marine Corps for three years during the Vietnam War. Some would say, "That's it? Three years?" but others know that's far longer than necessary, especially with that war. I always felt like my dad's service took something away from him, and he rarely talked about it. He talked about being a Marine and boot camp (he still laughs about certain memories from San Diego - he was a Hollywood Marine), but rarely about Vietnam. Part of me was hurt because I felt like I didn't know him really. Once I got into college, I started researching the war and doing projects on it as much as I could. I learned things I didn't want, nor need, to know. Most of all, though, I think I learned more about my dad and the other vets that served.

I remember when the first group of Operation Iraqi Freedom were coming home. My dad was livid. They got the parades and celebrations that he never got. He felt shafted. He spoke about it once, and I think that's when it hit me. These men and women who are serving today got something he never did - respect. Sure, there are still the protesters here and there, but more importantly, there are the supporters. Rarely can I take a trip in my car without seeing someone with a yellow ribbon on their car or some sort of "Support Your Troops" sticker. People today are much more educated on how war works than they were during Vietnam. They are able to separate the troops from the leadership. They understand that those who are over there giving their lives are not the ones who decided to start the war, or continue it for that matter. This was something many people didn't understand during the Vietnam era. Like Lt. Gen. Moore said, "Those who hated it the most - the professionally sensitive - were not, in the end, sensitive enough to differentiate between the war and the soldiers who had been ordered to fight it." I'm thankful that we can acknowledge that difference today, but at the same time, pissed that we couldn't back then. We're making up for lost time nowadays as we realize the error of our ways from the 60s and 70s and make some sort of restitution to those vets who so valantly and selflessly served for no reason other than patriotism and pride (bonuses and benefits weren't as abundant those days as they are now). There are times when I'll see someone wearing some sort of Vietnam vet paraphanelia and I want to go up and thank them, but I know how hurt my dad was about his service and I don't want to step on toes.

SFC B talked about how when he was younger and his trip the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial. I, too, made that trip once. It wasn't on some patriotic holiday or anything, just some time during the summer when my sister and I were off from school. My parents have friends that live in Baltimore, so the trip to Washington D.C. was just a day thing. To be quite honest, I was more excited about seeing the pandas at the National Zoo than I was about seeing the war memorials. I was 8, what do you expect? I didn't understand why I couldn't go be with my dad as he walked the length of the Wall. I do now. The names on that Wall are people he served with. Brothers in arms who he never again saw. SFC B considers his dad one of the lucky ones, because he got out alive and unscathed, physically or mentally. However, in talking with my dad, I know that's not true. My dad always said he was one of the unlucky ones, the ones who got out. The ones who have to live with those memories every day and every night. The ones who are still haunted by their service, no matter how long or short it was. The ones who still jump at loud noises, a remenant of dealing with bombs and arty attacks (my dad passed this on to me, as anyone at the gym can attest to). My dad has a shirt that says it best - "I'm guaranteed a place in heaven because I've already served my time in hell."

It's because of the selfless service of those before me that I choose this path with my life. Sure, I could go on to do great things in the civilian world, but what would it matter? What purpose would I be serving? I have all these backup plans in case the military doesn't work out, but they're just that - backups. I'm thankful for every Soldier, Marine, Airman, Sailor, and Coastie who has served and who continues to serve today. As I write this, Billy Ray Cyrus's song "Some Gave All" is playing on the radio. I'll leave it at that...


All gave some and some gave all.
Some stood through for the red, white and blue,
and some had to fall.
And if you ever think of me,
think of all your liberties, and recall,
some gave all.