Since 1999 I've made an effort to send a Veteran's Day card to someone very special to me. It's the only one I send out. I've never found anyone else who, by the very act of being a former member of the military, deserves it as much as this special man.
I've known lots of veterans. I was smack-dab in the middle of the Viet Nam era. While I was smoking dope and indulging in the free love of the times, this man was overseas, stationed in various places, planning on making the military his career.
One of my old supervisors was a veteran of Viet Nam. He was the kind who boasted about how many gooks he'd killed, played himself up to be a big fish in a little pond. You'd have thought he was instrumental in advising the military brass on strategy. No wonder the war turned out the way it did, if that was the case! In reality, he was a supply sergeant...never saw any action whatsoever, just handed out *stuff*.
My spouse was a Viet Nam vet, too. He only tells stories about the country, about the job he did, and more or less keeps his stories the same ones time after time. He was shot at twice - a scary thing because his MOS in Viet Nam was transporting helium tanks for his job; he dealt with radar and weather balloons. If those bullets would have punctured those tanks, it would have been fiery and fatal. He was injured by friendly fire on his first night there. Some returning infantry soldiers threw a white phosphorus grenade into his bunker and his hand was burned. After all these years, the outward scar is almost invisible. But, other scars remain hidden.
But, the Warrior I send cards to each year only speaks of his time in the military with some funny stories about places he was stationed; Viet Nam stories are only told to people he trusts deeply. I'm proud to be one of those he's trusted with his feelings. And all I will say about that is to understand you must know what his military assignment in Viet Nam was. He was a medic.
I first met him in person at a Pagan gathering. It was the first gathering I'd ever been to. Though we'd been internet friends for two years by this time, this was our first meeting - the first time we'd actually met and hugged each other.
That weekend was the beginning of a change in my life. As we sang and danced and prayed through the ritual that Saturday night, we were all handed a "wand" made from an apple stick. As part of the ritual, we each were to make our way to the fire and throw our wand into it, while telling the God/dess the word we wished for most in the world.
As I made my way to the fire, I wondered what word would be uttered by me. I left it up to my Spirit to make the choice, knowing it would be the one I needed. My stick went into the fire, and I spoke aloud: "Love". And, I realized it was true...Love was the word that made great impact on me. The Warrior was close behind me...so close I knew that whatever word he spoke would be intertwined with mine for all time. As his wand dropped into the fire, he uttered, "Freedom".
And, I realized that Love and Freedom must go hand in hand. For Love must be given freely, and Freedom makes it possible to Love without fear.
Happy Veteran's Day to all. And especially to you, Woofie, for the Love and Freedom you've made possible in this world.
3 comments:
Great post Kate. The war in Nam was certainly of a different variety than all others in our time, and it's left a whole different kind of emotional scars on those that came back. God bless them.
My grandfather served in WWII. He was the gentlest, kindest, most soft spoken person i'd ever known. He never raised his voice or his hand in anger and was a devoted gardener.
We never knew what he had to go through as a foot soldier, he never spoke of it. When he passed away, we had to go through all his personal things. We found 5 bronze stars. Along with those stars we found letters from him and a close cousin of his that had also served. The terrors they spoke of....
He's been gone for nearly 12yrs and I still can't think of what he went through without getting emotional.
Bless our Vets.
My FIL was one of the first soldiers to help liberate Auschwitz concentration camp. The soldiers had been told not to take pictures of the place, but he did...and they are horrendous. In his later years, he talked a little bit about it, because we let him know it was important to us and we wanted to be able to pass the thoughts he had onto others. There are so many horror stories from war...that's why I can't understand why we keep repeating the cycle of war over and over....
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