Veterans

NOTES OF CONCERN….

Commentary by Jack Blair

“anciens combattants”

When I was a little boy, two of my uncles were veterans of World War I. They had been in the United States Cavalry. I loved to listen to their stories. They had left rural Pennsylvania to train in a strange land (to them): Texas.

I had another uncle who was a medic on the Normandy beaches. I didn’t learn much from him because he really never wanted to talk about his war experiences. When I was young, I found that strange. I also wondered why he kept that Purple Heart tucked away in the bedroom. It seemed to me there must be some great stories there. Not only did he not talk about his experience, but after returning from WWII he never again traveled out of the country. All he would say is that there is no better place than the good old USA!

When I was a teenager my cousin was drafted. My parents had a family party for him. Early in the evening I noticed that he, and the three uncles I mentioned, had gone upstairs to one of the bedrooms. I only learned later from my mother that our uncles had wanted to tell him things that evidently only soldiers could talk about.

As a man in my twenties we experienced the lottery system of the draft. Shortly thereafter our country went to an all volunteer army. So I never was admitted to the inner circle of soldiers in my family. As I grow older I am thankful that I have not had to experience what they experienced. I am also grateful that they made it possible for me to have and raise a family in a safe and peaceful land.

In the little town where I was raised, we made a big fuss about veterans. We had flags and bands and parades. I remember hearing many speeches and I recall how proud and often how sad people were on these celebratory occasions. Over time I learned about Gold Star mothers, about the telegrams, and about the unexpected visits of soldiers to the homes of their comrades who had fallen.

When I drive to Prince Edward Island where I spend time each summer, I travel over a highway that celebrates: anciens combattants. It reminds me of my uncles and also of so many from far away lands who joined together to give us the peace we enjoy.

Last week I met a young man from Australia who was visiting friends in Winchendon. We talked about his experiences in Iraq as he was recently stationed there. He had also served in Afghanistan. Here was this fine young man, from an ally of ours, telling me about his service, service designed to keep us free of dictators and terrorists. In his easy way, he talked of the dangers and of the excitement.

He also expressed concern over what the recent upset election in his country might mean to the conduct of the war. This caused me to think how we build young men and women up to fight a noble cause and then, almost as thoroughly, we might change direction through our votes. It is not so much the change of direction that is of concern, but rather the unpredictability of what we expect our not so “ancient” combatants to accept when they place their lives at risk for the rest of us.

So I keep buying poppies, visiting cemeteries, and pondering all these young lives that we put at risk. But I also remember that everything we have we owe to the folks who made this same sacrifice of years and endangered their futures, so that we could enjoy the blessings of freedom and have a future to which to look forward.

Don’t ever see a current or former serviceman without thanking him for his service.

It is a small thing to do, an inadequate thanks if you will, for the dedication that was given and the risk that was taken.

And when the band strikes up that beautiful national anthem of ours, don’t concentrate on the punks who won’t sing and who are so disrespectful. While they might want your attention, there is another group who has earned your undivided attention.

The punks are free to act that way because so many others were willing to face death so that they could be free to express their opinions.

If you are a veteran and you are reading my thoughts today: THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE.