Veterans Day
Probably the only thing they all have in common with each other is that at least once, they raised their right hand and swore an oath. Protect and defend, obey lawful orders, foreign and domestic.
They came from every background. Their first language may not have been English, but they learned it quickly when they were being yelled at. They volunteered, were drafted, or were pressured into joining when they were 18 (or even younger in some cases) when they couldn't yet legally drink. Their motivations were as varied as their backgrounds--serve their country, go to war, earn money for college, stay out of jail, start a new life.
They served in one of six armed forces - Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, Coast Guard, Space Force.
They left home, whether on a train, on a bus, on a plane or in a car. They went through boot camp, or basic, or Officer Candidate School, or Direct Commission Officer programs, or one of the Academies. Their hair was cut, their personal belongings were taken away, they learned a new language, new terms, and the proper way to make a bunk, or a bed, or a rack. They learned to clean and fire weapons-- maybe the most important thing they learned.
Their language quickly became rough and their sense of humor a bit warped--civilians just wouldn't understand it, but others like them would.
They were shipped far from home to their new duty stations-- a fort, a post, a station, a forward operating base, a ship, a cutter. They experienced their first holidays on duty, far from home with their new family-- their brothers and sisters in arms.
They didn't realize at the time--or maybe they did--that they left behind parents, brothers, sisters, spouses, friends, all of whom prayed every night for their safe return...and worried constantly.
They had moments of absolute terror, exhilaration, happiness, heartbreak, and sadness. It's probable that the best day, and the worst day, of their lives was the same day--but for different reasons. They fought with incredible ferocity, or they were brilliant in the split second-decision that needed to be right, or they tragically made a mistake at the wrong time.
They made fun of the other services-- grunts, squids, zoomies, jarheads, puddle pirates... but only among themselves. They'd never tolerate some civilian berating one of their brothers or sisters-in-arms, because they all knew the price they'd paid, regardless of which service they'd joined.
They might not have had a high school diploma or a college degree, but they could talk intelligently about world politics and international relations because they'd been there, done that.
They served 1 year, 4 years, 20 years, even more...or less.
They were seamen, privates, lance corporals, lieutenants, majors, sergeants, captains, chief petty officers, warrant officers, generals and admirals. Their names have been forever inscribed in marble because of their exploits years ago...or they were among the faceless ranks whose names aren't remembered except by their families.
They might have a peculiar look in their eyes-- that of a much older person who's seen far more of life (good and bad) than their age might otherwise indicate.
They may have received ribbons and medals for their exploits, lauded with recognition for their accomplishments - or their accomplishments may be known only to them and a select few, and forgotten by everyone else.
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They carried with them memories of their service--their deployments, their battles, their operations, and the men and women they shared those times with. They carried scars, whether physical or emotional. Their bodies might not work quite the way they used to--their minds might be cluttered and in turmoil--constant reminders of their service.
They experienced the first day of taking off the uniform forever, hanging it in the closet, where it may or may not still hang because they're not comfortable with the idea that their #military time is actually over.
They entered the 'real' world, the civilian one, which was alien to them at that point. They sensed trepidation, or incredible freedom, or longing for the structure of the military life they left behind...or maybe all of that and then some.
They tried to explain to civilians what the military was really like-- beyond the movies. They patiently (or not so patiently) endured questions about whether they'd killed anyone and how tough they are.
They don't want special recognition-- but they might need help in one way or another. They might have been surrounded by brothers and sisters in their service--but feel crushingly alone in their solitude.
They don't consider themselves 'heroes', because each of them served with other people that they know are heroes.
They became parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. They went on to do other things in their lives-- school, other jobs, other places. Their hair grew a little longer. Their memories were stuffed into footlockers, dusty photo albums, seabags in the attic... or thrown away.
They might get a little uncomfortable when someone says "Thank you for your service", because they're not sure what to say in return. Not because they don't appreciate the sentiment....just that...it's complicated.
They might tell stories, or they might not. Their stories might be the funny ones, while the truly horrible ones remain locked somewhere deep inside their minds because that's where they need them to stay. They might not give anyone the slightest indication that they served, or it might be the single defining characteristic of their lives.
On Veterans' Day, though, they all remember. They remember who they were, back when they were young and invincible. They remember their friends, who they wish were still here. They remember back when everything made sense...at the same time it was all screwed up.
They remember when they made a difference--even if others don't.
Here's hoping that the rest of the country takes a moment to consider what today really means to all of the #veterans out there.
Happy Veterans' Day!