old soldiers

And so the absolutely awesome TXDAR Patriotic Prayer Breakfast is now a part of my history. Talking to Kathleen and Sheila yesterday, sharing stories about my part in the Vietnam Airlift, I realized that the reason Old Soldiers don’t talk about their experiences is not so much that we’re not willing to share, it’s that in our hearts we feel the person asking might not really want to know, that it’s just so much lip service.

My father-in-law was a ball turret gunner in WWII. He shares a few stories eagerly, but for the most part not so much, usually nothing that requires more than a three-word answer; and especially not with a civilian; but, given the opportunity, and the time, his hesitancy at the beginning disappears and before you know it hours have passed. His recent experience at the new Museum in Florida is a perfect example. Things he had never shared with his wife or sons came to light with no reticence because he was engaged in conversation with others actually working on the planes, guys who not only cared enough to ask, and actually wanted to hear his response, but also were delighted to listen to what he had to say. There’s a vast difference between hearing and listening.

Talking with BFF Ginger about her time in the sand box, it’s much the same. She shares, but only if there’s time to get into the subject fully. For how can you explain to someone who has not lived it the hours and days of tedium interspersed with seconds of fear and minutes of lightning-reflex response to a clear and present danger?

It’s like trying to explain to the visually impaired the peachy light of a Back Bay afternoon, or the many hues of green in an East Texas spring, or the sparkling facets of the ocean at dawn on Newport Beach.

It’s not that we don’t want to talk. We do. Some of us are really quite desperate to get it out. But we’re afraid you might be offended at the depth of our emotions. Of late it seems we, as a people, don’t handle emotions very well, not our own, way less those of another. When you are kind enough to ask, and we begin to answer, we see your eyes glaze over after a couple of minutes. We know it’s not that you don’t want to know, and we understand it’s not that you don’t care, it’s simply that we are cognizant of the fact that the uninitiated have no frame of reference.

The gentleman standing next to me yesterday morning during the photo op made a comment about what he had done in his war, and then he asked me how I had served. Just a few words out of my mouth and I saw the light in his eyes grow brighter. No, we had no actual experience in common. He’s a man and I’m a woman, we were in different parts of the word, and at different times, with the United States Navy. But there was and always will be a common bond between us – the eagles on our arms and the flag in our hearts.

At each of our DAR meetings we recite the American’s Creed. In part, it says, “I therefore believe it is my duty to my Country to love it, to support its constitution, to obey its laws, to respect its flag, and to defend it against all enemies.” I silently add the words “foreign and domestic” because that’s the oath I swore when I became a member of the United States Armed Forces, and renewed that very same pledge each time I re-enlisted.

We old soldiers – we’re all cut from the same cloth, wearing garments made at different times. And to a man – or woman – there’s not a one of us who, if requested, would not gladly do it all, and MORE, again. If you don’t believe it, just ask us. We’ll tell you. But only if you have time for our answer.