It was 1975, at a Northern California university, when we met. He was five years older and had just resumed college after his tours in Vietnam, happy to use his GI Bill benefits. It was pretty nearly ‘love at first sight’, or certainly as close as I will ever come. We married after college and began to pursue our careers. He had been an Army medic—the ones who jumped out of helicopters to treat and rescue wounded soldiers in the field of battle. While going to grad school to become a pastor, he was credentialed as an ER medic and often worked with those in the psych ward. The irony was lost at the time….because we just didn’t know then what we know now.
He had nightmares, trouble sleeping, odd phobias and a general anxiety. We went to many therapists, we worked hard, our marriage struggled, but we never got an answer. Of course, now we know all this to be symptomatic of PTSD. My heart aches every time I think about his suffering and how little we knew how to help.
In 1984, he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. He was only 34; the doctors were surprised because it was pretty rare at that age. He had radiation, chemotherapy and finally a bone marrow transplant. He never made it to our ‘happily ever after’. I blamed it on Agent Orange—I still do. I had no proof—less then than there is finally now of the correlation to that poison and the cancers it causes. I was a widow having just barely passed the age of 30. I had never felt such heartache.
In his memory, I am steadfastly and very personally proud of all our military men and women. The sacrifices they all make, and those of their families, is beyond anything even I can imagine. I want to especially honor all of them this Memorial Day, as an exclamation point to the daily thanks I give for their service.
I was not in the military. The closest I can claim is that I was born in an Army hospital while my father served in the Air Force. My grandfather served in the Navy. My step-father also served in the Navy. He liked to joke that just as his battleship was closing in on Japan, the Japanese surrendered—no doubt because they had heard he and his fleet were on the way.
My uncle received a Purple Heart for his heroic efforts on Iwo Jima. Gravely wounded, he went back to save several others who had been even more severely wounded. Not all survived, but he did. He was grateful for every day. There is one story he told that continues to provide insight to our military: At one point, he was charged with caring for the Japanese POWs that they had captured in their battles. As he interacted with them, they continued to express their amazement and gratitude at the care and humanity they were shown. They praised their American captors for their honor and decency. My uncle is now buried at Arlington, but that honor and decency live on.
Our military members and their families are brave, honorable, courageous and patriotic people. They are people we can never fully repay for their service. They, and the generations before them, are why we can have the free elections we now enjoy and, yes, even the divisive language we hear almost daily. I remember this at the heights of my frustration this election year and try to turn it around to thank those very people who made it possible for us all to express our opinions.
I want to share a story of another family. One I do not know, but whose sacrifice is tragic. Please, take the time to read the whole story that this family has chosen to share.
Wounded soldier's family lives with impact of war daily.
It’s a moving story about an Army Special Forces Green Beret Unit Leader. He served in the early days of the Iraq conflict. During a nine-day stint in 2005, he endured two road-side bombings that left him with traumatic brain injury—not diagnosed at the time. Of course, I have immediate empathy for this soldier and his family. Once the diagnoses was made, he fought hard. He is losing that battle and his physical and mental abilities are deteriorating. Yet, they all fight on. As good soldiers do. As our soldiers and their families always have.
His mother has these words about the services her son, and those like him, provide. It reminds me of the work my uncle did that so profoundly changed the view those Japanese had of Americans.
"People often do not know what the Green Berets are or do, or they think they are all John Waynes and GI Joes" who invade countries and start wars, Wesseling said. "People often know more about ISIS than our own Special Forces."
Special Forces members "are very intelligent and highly trained," she emphasized, "and take family, country and God very seriously."
Training includes learning to speak other languages, becoming familiar with other cultures, and developing leadership skills to support indigenous populations, she said.
She goes on to say this:
Asked about demonization of the military, Wesseling said, "I ask persons like that to walk in the shoes of those in combat, seeing firsthand the kind of oppression going on in the world and see if they think this is an immoral response."
She added, "Although my son has lost his young life from the impact of war, when he could still speak he said that if he had to go to war to fight the terrorist actions, he would do it again in a heartbeat."
"These are professional soldiers who have pledged to help the downtrodden and free the oppressed on a daily basis," she said. "As a mother of a Green Beret, I feel this is a far cry from what some would consider unjust military action."
“He would do it again in a heartbeat.”
So would my husband, my grandfather, my father, my step-father and my uncle.
I invite you all to share your memories of family or friends, to honor those you’ve loved and those you’ve lost. If you visit a grave this weekend, feel free to post a picture in honor of that person. I invite you all to join me as we honor all of those who have served us.
Remembering and honoring our military on Memorial Day Weekend:
Thank you all for your service!