We Owe Them Big Time

My father was a soldier, a career soldier.  He fought in three wars, was wounded in two, gave his life to military service.  He loved it, my mother loved it and it was a good life for my brothers and me.  After ‘The Colonel’ (we called him ‘The Colonel’ as that was his rank at retirement) retired a second time (this time from 15 years of service as a civilian with the Navy) I gave a lot of thought to all that he had done with his life – all that his and my mother’s sacrifices had meant to their country.  I saw the lives that they had lived in a new light and I took a clearer look at the sacrifices being made by our American forces, as well as their families.

Fortunately for us I had this revelation and shared it with family and friends alike while we still had the opportunity to share our appreciation with, not only my parents, but in-laws, parents of friends and anyone else who we knew had worn the uniform.  In the generation before me, referred to by Tom Brokaw as the ‘Greatest Generation’ – everyone, parents, uncles and aunts served.  The better half’s parents met during the war in Europe – one serving in the Army Signal Corp and the other as an Army nurse who served side by side with her sister (South Dakota farm girls far from their element).  We try to make a point not to only show our appreciation on Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day but all the time, anytime. Before my dad left this life he knew that we were acutely aware of his life’s work and he was pleased.

I have tried for years to stay true to the overwhelming gratitude that I feel for all those who serve by giving a thumbs up to the individual in the car that passes me on the road and has a Veteran’s seal in the window; making it a point to acknowledge a member of the armed services when I see them in uniform in a store, an airport or just passing by on the street; I’m always buying poppies  and have them hanging from the rear view mirrors in all our vehicles.  We cheer all the services as they go by in any parade and cheer like the devil when the Vietnam Vets go by.

Many of the guys I went to high school with served in Vietnam.  Several made the ultimate sacrifice.  Others made it home, some with physical wounds and all with silent wounds that will never heal. Undaunted, they remain the caliber of men that continue to give of themselves to their families, their communities and to old high school buddies.

One special guy to us will always be a gentleman named Oscar Hille.  Oscar was a pilot during WWII and flew B12s over Germany.  He was shot down  and spent several years in a German prisoner of war camp. His bride-to-be, Dorothy Brindle, entered the Coast Guard when Oscar was captured and imprisoned, and served for the duration. I knew him for years before I knew of his and his bride’s sacrifice for their country.  All of the veterans in our immediate families  are gone now so for many years we have made a point to send Oscar a special basket of fruit, cookies and candies decorated in red, white and blue on Veteran’s Day with a thank you note. We stay in touch with Oscar especially on his birthday and at Christmas.  And – because Oscar is the kind of guy he is – he sends us a huge holiday basket every year.

If you read this column with any regularity you will not be surprised to hear that even as my Dad (Army) and one brother (Navy) served in Vietnam, with another brother in the Air Force stateside and ready to go – I was marching in Washington DC and numerous venues pleading for our forces to be brought home.  I objected to the war – never the men that were sent to fight it.

The wars continue and the young are called.  I recall how my mother would so often say, “Will it ever end?”  Until it ends there will always be a need for the ‘soldier’ – all that stands between us and the loss of our freedoms.

This Memorial Day make it a point to thank a Veteran – shake a hand, give a pat on the back, a thumbs up.  Let them know how we feel while, as they say in Ireland, ‘we still have them here on this side of the sod.’

C.M. McLoughlin, a writer and editor from New Jersey and New York, can be reached at mcloughlin43@gmail.com