I was coming out of the YMCA yesterday when I noticed a soldier sitting on a bench in front of the building. He just seemed to be enjoying the weather. But what was different about him was that his right arm was in a cast and sling, and his left arm was missing its hand. I don’t know what happened to him but I thanked him for his service.
Last month I met an exsoldier who had been back from Iraq for about a year. He told me that he had taken several bullets in his stomach and had been shipped home. I thanked him for his service too.
Most boys seem to be struck by soldiers at an early age and dream about becoming one. For hours they and their friends play war in their backyards while waiting for the day they can enlist.
My son Max (8) has his uniform and boots, and he received a real army helmet for Christmas. He wears them proudly. On Saturday we went out for our usual breakfast with my father-in-law. When we were leaving the diner we ran into two solders that had just left their truck outside. Max was fascinated and the men gave him permission to check it out. It was a special flatbed truck for towing with the cab hanging out in front of the wheels. The tires were taller than he is; he thought this was awesome.
Max had soccer after breakfast but, as a result of this chance meeting, instead of changing into his soccer clothes he put on his uniform, boots and helmet. He actually played with the helmet on for twenty minutes even though it is very heavy. He later took it off and finished up practice just in his uniform.
When I was his age I was just as fascinated. My dad, uncle, and their dad all served in World War II. I wanted to be like them but I also planned on going all the way to general. When I was 9 some of my friends called me “Cap’n” for awhile.
Things changed in high school. The war in Vietnam was winding down and the soldiers were coming home. Problem was they weren’t getting any of their VA benefits. As a result quite a few of them marched on Washington, set up tents on the mall in front of the Washington Monument, and petitioned the government for their benefits. I was incensed. My thinking was “how could they sell out the United States like this after they had fought for us?”
When I was in twelfth grade a group of students and teachers went to Washington to see the sights. The soldiers were still living on the mall. They made me nervous, big hairy men in their army jackets. I didn’t know what they would do while we were around. And then I met them, very nice men. I came away feeling that they deserved what they were asking for. I was proud to have met them. When I got home I let my hair grow just like them, later I grew a beard, and I got an army jacket and wore it proudly.
I never had the privilege to serve but I always applaud those who did during the Memorial Day parades. When I meet a soldier I thank him or her for what they have done or are doing for our country.
Whatever our political persuasion or whether we believe in war, we all have to respect the men and women who are willing to give up their lives to protect our rights and what we believe.
