Memorial Day Thoughts

It's been a while since I've written on this blog, but so much has happened to me that, frankly, I just haven't had the time, or in some cases, the desire to write. But this is Memorial Day weekend. And I feel the need to say something about that, so here I go.

I never enlisted in the military. Mine was the first generation of teenagers who needn't fear the draft, and so I had no intention of taking orders from guys with bad haircuts and worse temperaments. Besides, I had seen up close what happens to young men who go to war, and those images still haunt me occasionally.

When you're a young boy, your hero is either your father or your big brother. Since I never lived with my Dad, my big brother, who is 13 years older than me, was, and still is, my hero. We had cousins who grew up with him and I always thought they were big and tough and cool. This was in the late 60's. One of my cousins got drafted and ended up in the Marine Corps. I remember the long car ride from Massachusetts down to Camp LeJuene to see his graduation. When I saw my big cousin in his dress Blues, I thought he was a super-hero. I couldn't wait to turn 18 so I could join the Corps and be a Marine like him.

He got shipped off to Vietnam. As a child, I didn't grasp the concept of war. Every night Walter Cronkite would be on the news giving us the score, like a sports contest. "American troops confirmed 113 Vietnamese dead. We lost 39". That day, we won 113-39. That was how my undeveloped mind thought of war.

Until my cousin came home from his first tour. Boy, did my attitude change fast.

We all gathered at his parents house. He was telling us the stories of his time over there. He took out his combat bayonet and sliced a piece of paper with no effort. I had never seen a big knife like that so sharp. What happened next is emblazoned in my memory forever. He took out a photo album full of pictures from Vietnam. Most of the pictures were of his kills. Vietnamese soldiers, some almost inhuman in appearance, bloodied and dead. Some in pieces. All in color. And my 8 year-old brain was absorbing this. I decided I NEVER wanted to go to war. EVER!

My cousin never was the same smiling, happy-go-lucky guy he was before the war. It changed him. Hell, just looking at those pictures changed me, and I wasn't even seeing this stuff first hand. I could now see how war destroys everything it touches.

From then on, when I would see a Memorial Day parade, I'd think about my cousin. My Dad, and a few uncles, fought in WWII. All had some lingering effect of the war, be it physical, emotional or mental. These brave men and women went to war for their country. It was an experience that scars them permanently. Part of my job is transporting veterans to VA hospitals. The stories they tell cover a wide range of emotions, but when they are silent, staring out the window, the look in their eyes tells you far more than words could ever hope to express. You see the pain, the suffering and the loss of their dear friends that this evil called war brings to them. For them the battle never ends.

This Memorial Day, while you're rushing around getting ready for your BBQ, please take a moment to think of those who we are supposed to be honoring this weekend. The saying goes "All gave some, some gave all".

Don't you think we should give them the respect they have earned?

Be good to each other an take care my friends.