What does Veteran's Day mean for you?
I grew up in a military family, living near a military airbase in a town with historical military significance.
I am a rarity in my family--- a child who did not enter military service. My own career as a public school teacher may qualify on some days as a kind of battlefront experience, but I have never completed boot camp, never put on a uniform, never pointed a rifle at another soul.
there's more, and many pictures, below the fold.
No matter the policies that send them to war, though, I have to respect each and every man and woman who puts on that uniform and says, yes, I will serve. I will follow orders, I will do my duty and I will give the last full measure if that is what is asked of me.
It is that unquestioning service that makes my stomach turn thinking that any leader could so lightly betray that kind of gift. I will work to change leaders and policies, but I will honor today those who signed on the line, who squared their jaws and shouldered their guns and marched off to the task they were handed.
Somehow through generations of soldiers, our family has not experienced a military funeral, going back as far as family lore will take us, and that's a long way back--- I qualify for membership as a Daughter of the American Revolution. My great-great-great's have fought in the Civil War, WWI, WWII, and although they never saw combat, my dad, uncles, and cousins have served during the times of the Korean conflict, Vietnam, and are still serving today.
I'm going to trace just my mother's line here in this photo essay, although it's worth noting that my father is one of five brothers, all of whom had military careers as well, and several folks in my husband's family have also had storied military careers.
My Great-Grandfather
I'll start with my great grandfather Marshall, and the earliest military picture I have. This photo was taken somewhere in France circa 1919, a picture of a young American soldier who was part of the first generation of Americans to fight on European soil. He was actually too young, only 16, having lied about his age in order to get into the infantry. When he was discovered, they sent him home, but granted him an honorable discharge.
The next generation leads to my grandparents and their siblings.
My grandfather and grandmother are the couple in the middle. This photo was taken on their wedding day, September 13, 1941. By the following spring he was in France.
He's never talked much about his combat experience--maybe it's part of that whole "Greatest Generation" motif of the strong, silent type. He did used to scold us for not finishing our breakfast cereal though. I clearly remember sitting at the counter top in my grandmother's kitchen, swinging my little legs that didn't quite reach the floor yet and being told about the small, hungry children he saw scavenging trash cans in the streets of Paris after the liberation. He would tell us we didn't know how lucky we were, and how we should be grateful. He was right.
He had quite a twinkle in eye then, didn't he? Today he's 84, doing well and still ready to tell me, his "Miss Deborah," a thing or two.
One of my great-uncles on the maternal side went into the Navy.
Another joined the Army.
And the third became a Marine.
I've never heard family stories that detailed their careers, except that they all served during the war and then left the military for private sector jobs and quiet lives.
And then the next generation came of age.
My mom married a military guy--imagine that!
This is my dad in 1962, a year or so before I was born. He was in the Air Force, in a brand -new field known as "artificial intelligence." He was in Alaska on my actual birth date, doing a long-term assignment that I think is still classified, but we always heard rumors it involved setting up spy satellite networks to keep track of the threat from the U.S.S.R. My dad and I wouldn't meet until I was 9 months old. My mom loves to tell that I took my first steps that day at the airport--backwards, away from this tall stranger coming back home to a young wife and baby.
My mother has two brothers, both of whom enlisted in the Air Force.
My uncle Larry had the longest military career in our family, retiring in 1986 after 20 years of service.
And my mom's baby brother, my uncle Jeff, also joined the Air Force directly out of high school.
Jeff was stationed in Korea for awhile, and I'm still not sure how these two 1960's enlistees avoided being sent to Vietnam, but apparently God and the US Air Force had other plans for them.
Which brings us right up to today, and the current generation.
Jeff's daughter is still too young to know what career path she might take. My sister and I both went to college vs. looking to the military for a career, but my uncle Larry had three children, all of whom were born in Puerto Rico or Guam while he was stationed on air bases overseas. Their lives all revolved around transfers and new assignments, and they grew up knowing base commissaries better than MacDonald's. All three of them enlisted in our armed forces.
My oldest cousin Michael "rebelled" by joining the Navy instead of following his dad into the Air Force.
This is Michael right after boot camp, and his formal Navy photo.
Michael received an honorable discharge a few short years into his military career, when a bad fall on ship led to a recurring back injury.
Mike might have born under a bad star or something, though, because five years after getting out of the Navy, another, separate freak accident left him paralyzed from the shoulders down.
He's been through all the horrors of Veterans Hospital and military medical insurance. His mom had to turn into a tiger lady to fight for all his benefits and care, but although he needs a wheel chair and assistance with all the basic tasks of living he has truly found whatever silver lining there was to be found in the situation. Ten years now after his accident, he has completed two college degrees and is working on his doctorate in computer science.
His sister became, to my knowledge, the first woman in our family to serve:
Shelly has found her niche in the Army and is currently stationed in Puerto Rico--the same place her dad served when she was born.
And their little brother was not to be left out. Following family tradition, he enlisted straight out of high school. Brian became our first Marine in two generations.
Brian served a single tour and now has a private sector job.
And what about me and my two children?
Somehow, the idea of a military career never came up as an option for me. Maybe because I heard the call so strongly for teaching, or maybe just because I was a girl and back in the 70's it was still rather unusual to think of females making a full-out career out of military service, but my family's expectations, and my own, always seemed to point me to college vs. boot camp.
Still, I grew up steeped in military traditions, in a small upstate NY town. Rome, N.Y. is home to Fort Stanwix, the first place the Stars & Stripes were ever flown in battle. When we moved there in the 70's the entire town was being torn up so the historical fort could be re-built on his original foundations. From the time I was ten years old I drove by this re-built living history museum nearly every day, and took countless tours with school field trips and out-of-town guests.
Rome's other claim to military fame was Griffiss Air Force Base, closed down during the cut backs in 1995. (Later Griffiss gained some infamy as the site of the third and riotous Woodstock concert.) Missions at Griffiss AFB included fighter interceptors, electronic research, installation, and support activities, aerial refueling, and bombers.
Even though he was no longer in the military, my dad's private career followed defense contracting for quite awhile, and the software development opportunities kept us close to military culture for many years. One of our favorite family activities was to pack a picnic lunch and go to the public observation part of the base and watch the B-52's practice touch-and-go's. The sound of KC-135s roaring over our house each day is as much a part of my childhood memories as my mother's lullabies.
The Future
Would I encourage my own children to consider military careers?
Certainly not under this administration. The trust that American parents have always placed in their leaders, to know that when their sons and daughters are asked to go and to serve, it is with immense and immeasurable respect for the lives being put at risk.
I'm not surprised military recruitment numbers are down. Our current president seems to treat our military as his personal toy soldiers instead of respecting the sacred gift of service and sacrifice they represent. George W. Bush has spoken famously of how peacefully he sleeps at night, but I'm sorry, Mr. President, you should be tossing and turning, like all the mothers and fathers out there who actually worry about and pray for their precious children each night.
So what will I tell my children?
Well, on this day, I'll show them this essay. I'll make sure they get a sense of the history of their own family and of our country and of times we really did fight tyrants for freedom and safety.
I'll teach them to honor and respect our men and women in uniform. I'll explain to them that when we put a "Support Our Troops" magnet on the back of our car, we mean support them by not sending them to fight wars based on lies, with no exit strategies. That supporting them means providing them with the tools to get the job done and protect their personal safety.
And I'll also remind them that supporting our troops means supporting their lives and families back home while they are on far away shores, and making sure their benefits and healthcare are there for them when they return. And I'll do my damndest to make sure that sometime soon we have a commander in chief who feels the same way, because I can think of no better way to support these military men and women right now than to vote these thugs right on out of office.
A few years ago my son's Cub Scout troop took a trip to Patriot's Point in Charlestown. We toured all the ships stationed there now as permanent floating museums, and as a special treat, their entire pack (and chaperones!) got to spend the night aboard the air craft carrier the USS Yorktown, the "fighting Lady" of WWII. We toured the flight deck, ate in the brig, and slept in the unbelievably cramped bunks.
As I watched my son play around by climbing in and out of the hatches, and as I watched my daughter take a seat at an anti-aircraft gun, I wondered if I were seeing a glimpse of their future. I certainly hope that if their country needed them---truly needed them--that they would answer the call, like so many brave souls before them.
This Veteran's Day my heart and profound thanks go out to all who have served, in peace or in tribulation. Until the day we truly can turn our swords into plowshares, thank you for standing guard between us and harm.
the poster is from the Peace Vigil in our Carolina town, inspired by Cindy Sheehan and her quest to bring them home, now.