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Nov. 11, 2000
Guest
Column I remember looking at him as he stood at the bottom of the steps of our home on West 98th Street in Cleveland, Ohio. He looked smart in his navy blue uniform with white trim. The colored ribbons on his chest made him look tall. He was home on leave from the carrier USS Franklin (CV-13). He was only 21 and was already an Aviation Machinist Mate First Class and a veteran of Pacific campaigns that included Midway, Coral Sea and the Philippines. He was a veteran and I was proud of my brother, Eddie. After a week at home he headed back to the war. On March 19, 1945, just six months after I hugged him goodbye, he lost his life on one of the steel decks of the "Big Ben." He and 800 shipmates died when their ship was hit by two 500-pound bombs as the carrier was making a strike 30 miles off the coast of Japan. On this Veterans Day I will remember my brother and no doubt other brothers, sisters, moms, dads and waves will take time to recall what Veterans Day is all about. That one day set aside to reflect on someone close we lost in war. It is also a day to say "thanks" to those veterans who made it back. They did a job they were asked to accomplish, didn’t ask "why" ... they just did their best. It is a day to salute those veterans whose courage, loyalty and dedication are an inspiration to us all. Calvin Coolidge once said, "Patriotism is easy to understand. It means looking out for yourself by looking out for your country." Thomas Jefferson put it this way: "My affections are first for my country, and then generally, for all mankind." On this Veterans Day, I’m reminded of an essay I once read that addressed "What is a Veteran?" It went something like this: He’ a man who looks the world in the eye. He’s a man who feels an extra heart-tug when the flag goes by. He’s a man who steps a little faster when he hears the beat of a military band. He’s a Veteran. He comes in all assorted sizes and shapes. He’s a big man, he’s a small man, he’s a short man, he’s a tall man He is the Doughboy of World War I, the GI of World War II. He’s a man who’s seen Korean skies, fought the cold and silent battle of uneasy Berlin, and braved the booby traps and ambushes in the Ia Drang Valley in Vietnam. He’s a veteran. He is a sailor, soldier, marine. He is a flyer, Seabee, Coast Guard. He is artillery, infantry, medic aviation machinist mate, armored and ordnance. He’s a veteran! He has the quiet dignity of a man who knows the price of freedom. He has the clear eyes of a man who respects himself. He is courage living on Main Street. He is patriotism mowing the lawn on Saturday. He is good citizenship with a smile on his face. He’s a veteran. He is Republican, Democrat, Independent. He is a father, grandfather, husband and bachelor uncle. He is plumber, doctor, salesman; he is mechanic, farmer, banker; he is Catholic, Protestant, Jew; he is rich and poor and in-between. He’s a veteran. He’s a man who loves peace because he knows the price tag of war. He’s a member of history’s most exclusive fraternity. He know that war is 90 percent boredom and 10 percent sheer terror. He’s been there. He’s a veteran. He likes the majesty of America’s mountains, the tranquility of America’s Valleys. He likes the bustle of America’s cities and the friendliness of America’s Main Street. He likes the sounds of America’s children playing on the American playgrounds. He likes to see the flag go by. He feels a bit sad when he hears the sound of an American bugler playing "Taps." He is a citizen soldier, peacetime leader. He’s the first to volunteer in time of trouble, and the last to come home. He’s a veteran. He is proud of his American past, alert to his American present, confident of his American future. He likes the legends of America’s greats: Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Robert E Lee, Stonewall Jackson, Patton, Eisenhower, MacArthur, and all the proud patriots who have marched through America’s history books. He has bivouacked at Valley Forge, charged the hills of Gettysburg, stormed the sands of Guadalcanal, swarmed ashore at Omaha Beach, advanced on Pork Chop Hill, and fought in the bunker complex in War Zone C in Southeast Asia. He parachuted into Granada. He stood watch in Beirut. He fought in Panama. He had humanitarian duty in Semolina. He weathered Desert Shield and Desert Storm, flew missions from bases in Saudi Arabia and off carrier decks in the Persian Gulf and Red Sea. He is presently serving in Bosnia, with hope of bringing democracy back to its people. He’s a veteran. In the very rear of his secret heart there is always a tinge of sorrow, a souvenir of sadness for lost and departed comrades. No matter how gray his temples grow or how many inches he adds to his middle-aged waist, he always walks with a distinctive pride that isn’t given to lesser men. He is America with an honorable discharge. He is democracy with a good conduct medal lost in the darkness of his keepsake box. He is freedom with a Purple Heart. He’s a first-class fighting man with a walk and a sentimental grin. He’s America’s most honorable citizen. He’s a veteran. |
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