My Veteran's Day Story...

 

 

 

"At some point in his life, every young man yearns for his adventure..."

I graduated from high school in 1967. I had a great time in high school and had many friends. Life was good - it was very good. It was Happy Days and Ozzie and Harriet all rolled into one. I had a high school sweetie and we shared a teenage "puppy love". We both decided to attend a newly minted junior college in the area right after high school. Many of the kids we graduated with were going there and we thought it would be fun. Besides, it was cheap. After one quarter, I hated it. It was 13th grade, and not a lot of fun or adventure. I would finish my first year there, and that was it.

The next year I transferred up to a state college north of the cities. My girlfriend continued on at the junior college, so I thought less of her and more of "book time" might help my sagging GPA. It didn't. Right off the bat, I had a major distraction when I found out a third of my classes at the junior college would not transfer. In those days, there was no commonality between the junior colleges, state colleges and the university system. My fear was my 2S deferment would be in immediate jeopardy. I was right - in early October of 1968, after being at the college for only a month, I was notified my draft status was now 1A. 

Similar to the fictional story I wrote about Josh, young men were disappearing all over campus. The draft was like a hungry lion, just waiting for a young man who did not take college seriously enough. At 18 or 19 years old, that was quite a few young men.

When one of the guys across the hall in the dorm got drafted, I could see the hand writing on the wall. There was an increasingly short period of time between being classified as 1A and being drafted. The next day I went into town and visited the Federal Building. As I walked down the hall, trying not to let my apprehension show, I saw two doors. The one on the left said "U.S. Air Force" - the one on the right said "United States Navy". Further down the hall were the offices of the Marines and Army. Now it was up to me to make a choice - a choice that could affect (or shorten) the rest of my life.

I chose the Navy for a variety of reasons. I walked in the door and a very burly recruiter in his dress blues looked up at me. "Looking for adventure son? If so, you have come to the right place". I replied that I would like to look into a two year program that the Navy might offer. He gave a hearty laugh. "Son, if you are talking about the reserves, good luck. There is over a two year waiting list. Besides, if you want the real action, you want regular Navy. Now, what is it - a four year hitch or a six year one?" I was stunned - four years? For a young man my age, four years was forever. Six years was even worse.

He could see I was troubled. "Are you over at the college? If so, and if you have enough credits, I can start you out as an E-2 instead of an E-1. In addition, we have a new program now called the 'Six Month Delay Program'. Sign up today, and you have six months to get your affairs in order, take more college classes and spend time with your sweetie. Besides, once you sign on the bottom line, the draft board will never bother you again." So I signed up for a four year hitch, which would start in April 1969.

Looking back on my life now that I am in my mid-sixties, that one day in October 1968 changed just about everything. First and foremost, I was proud to serve the country I love so much. The opportunities and adventures I had in my first four year hitch are too many to describe in this post. I finished my four years, was honorably discharged, and started all over again at the main university. Hardly any of my credits transferred from my college before the Navy. Receiving the GI bill allowed me to take very heavy course loads and graduate in slightly over two years. I got married, got a job (using my Navy experience) and joined the Naval Reserves as a veteran volunteer. I applied for a commission, received it, and served for another 17 years. I retired after 21 "good years" obtaining the rank of Lieutenant Commander.

I write this story for one reason only. I am a vet, and very proud to be one. Every vet I have ever known came to "veteran status" by a unique path. Most of those paths involve a story - many very interesting. I did not serve in Viet Nam, but was stationed on Okinawa during that time period. One of the many reasons I joined the Navy was to go to sea. My only disappointment in my Navy career was during the time I served, there were very few sea billets. I ended up being a shore sailor for my entire 21 year career.

One final word about vets on this Veteran's Day. I love the way that vets are honored and treated today. However, it was not always like this. I remember coming home from Okinawa and walking through the San Francisco airport. I was so happy to be back in the United States. However, some of the things that were said to me and about me by strangers were hurtful and confusing. Just because I was wearing a uniform of the Armed Forces. Many times our active service people or vets were treated with anger or indifference.

However, the biggest injustice that vets faced during that time period was the ignorance of PTSD. It was not understood, so rather than treat it as a disability caused by combat, we would punish those who had the symptoms. I am thankful that injustice has been rectified, and all combat vets, regardless of the war they served in, can receive the honor they deserve.

As we enter this Veteran's Day weekend, I would like to encourage every veteran to share a story or two with family or friends. The vast majority of vets are proud to be vets, proud of their service. Besides thanking a vet this weekend, see if they would share a story or two. It will bless and enrich you to hear it and the vet to share it.