Veterans Day is again upon us. It falls on Nov. 11 every year in the USA. This day is the anniversary of the signing of the armistice, which ended the World War I hostilities between the Allied nations and Germany in 1918. It is set aside to thank the veterans of all wars for their service.
There are all kinds of remembrances this day, but those of us who are not veterans of war have no concept of how much thanks we owe the ones who went to war so that we all could remain free and enjoy the peaceful life most of us do. The closest that most of us come to understanding was when our nation was attacked on our own soil 9/11.
This year, I contemplated this Day of Remembrance (it’s not really a holiday) by thinking about all the veterans I’ve known in my life. Family and friends Robbie Edwards, Darrell Powell, Bill Barnes, Roy Zettle (deceased), Leonard Hulsebosh (deceased) and my dad (deceased). Each of these men experienced service to their nation in different ways, in different times. And I thought how none of them spoke much about their experiences, and how very little non-veterans understood their sacrifices.
Most of the veterans I mentioned fought during the Vietnam war. I’m sure part of why they didn’t talk much about their experiences is that this was a very unpopular war and veterans coming home from it were often disrespected. But I think part of it was the same reason my Dad never talked about what he experienced – what they saw and were asked to do was more horrible than we could conceive – and they did not want us to have to experience any part of what they had. So they internalize their horrors and they quietly get on with life.
I have been thinking a lot about my Dad this Veterans Day and how much I did not and still do not know about his service. He fought in the Pacific Theatre in World War II and was older than most being drafted. He never talked about his experiences. Growing up, he never disciplined me or my sisters and brother. Turns out, he taught hand to hand combat to soldiers on the ship taking them to the front. He was afraid he would hurt us, so Mom took care of the correction.
He liked growing things – his pecan trees, his garden and his orange tree. He liked making things with his hands. He made a living making butcher blocks, table and counter tops, and cutting boards – working wood. The family made weekend trips and spent beach time at Surfside – but he never talked about what happened to him during the war.
It wasn’t until after he died that we opened the cedar chest and pulled out his pictures, souvenirs and military papers that we understood why he never talked about his contributions.
What we found was an unsung hero. We found what we thought was a Japanese diary (turned out it was an address book that we returned this to the Japanese embassy), some shells, a bracelet made of silver coins, his survival kit, his hat, a Japanese sword, his discharge papers and a scrapbook of pictures of places he had been.
He mostly held the rank of private, but once in the heat of battle, he was promoted to sergeant – only to be demoted after the heat of the battle. He was on the advance team making way for General McArthur’s return in the Pacific Island chain. Dad was the gunner on a 50-caliber machine gun and was awarded three bronze spear points (for being part of the original invasion crew on enemy-held territory) for three island landings and it appeared the government owed him a fourth one that he never collected. There was a record that Dad’s 50-caliber machine gun crew won a Pacific machine gun marksmanship contest in Hawaii. He was the guy the enemy wanted to take out – he pulled the trigger on destruction and evidently was good at it.
I looked at the pictures in his scrapbook – the camps, his friends, Dad in a hula skirt and then, the picture that will haunt me to the day I die – a dead Japanese soldier partially in and partially out of a fox hole. I only saw that horror once. With his job, there’s no telling how many times he saw similar and worse carnage. Then I understood why he never talked about his service during the war. A gentle man changed by service to his country.
Dad was just one veteran, but there are thousands who sacrifice pieces of themselves for their nation. We should all take a minute and think about what these men and women have done for all of us to keep our homeland safe and to protect us all from the horrors of war. Veterans Day is a somber day of remembrance. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all the veterans for their service. Thank you from a grateful heart.
