It is neither Veterans Day nor Memorial Day but what a novel idea we honor soldiers outside of those two specified holidays.
The Old Soldier
I married an Army Brat. We were 19 years old at the time and had been together 4 years. She was the child of a military family. Born in North Carolina, spent early life in Germany, then landed back at Fort Gordon. I met her dad before I knew her, after he retired from 30 years from Viet Nam (He agreed to pick up a common friend of my wife’s, and at 14 years old, I tagged along). A quiet man, he had a way of looking at you that made you want to shrink away. Maybe that’s how all dads look at young punks with an eye towards their daughters. I never took it the wrong way but always considered him a force capable of many things. In short, I either feared or respected him. Maybe both.
Much later in life I would learn that at 21 years old in 1944 her Dad walked off a Higgins Boat with a 50 cal machine gun on his shoulders. Not being able to swim, he sank, then walked the bottom of the sea to the shores of Omaha Beach on D-Day. It was there a German bullet shattered his fibula, and he earned his first Purple Heart. Two Oak Leaf Clusters were to follow (if you know, you know).
My father-in-law continued to serve for 30 years after, serving in Europe, North Africa, Korea, the Pentagon and Vietnam before retiring as command sergeant major. He was an Old Soldier. He kept his story and service in The Big Red One Infantry division close to his chest. Very briefly he would share glimpses into the horror and suffering he had seen and been a part of. CSM Johnson lived to a ripe old age of 96, and he would tell you he never understood why God spared him and took buddies. He would jokingly say “Three wives and three wars.” Two wives he saw buried, one buried him. Never did he have anything other than praise for his country and felt his service to be a privilege. Death and entrance into Heaven liberated him from his decrepit body into a new body in Heaven.
The Unappreciated Soldier
I met another Old Soldier from a different era maybe 20 years ago. Even though younger than CSM Johnson, he had also experienced the pain and affects of a war. When I first met him, he had long white hair and a long white beard. It may have been dyed blue then, or maybe it was colored blue at a later date, I can’t remember. His voice had a raspy sound to it, almost a soft growl when he spoke. His eyes were deep and piercing and held you in their gaze, not in a menacing way but rather as if they had seen things so painful as to have scarred them.
He was a hulk of a man, even though life experiences had started to draw him down many years before we met. Easily 6 foot tall and large in his presence, he struck an imposing impression. His skin was tattooed and pocked with discolored spots from being in the path of Agent Orange during the Vietnam war. He was haunted by memories of things he saw, things he had done in his duty over there. He once told me he would be dropped “in country” as a forward recon and the things he had to do were ever on his mind. His MO was to quietly slip ahead of American forces and “eliminate” threats. He told me he had no means of communicating failure, so mission accomplishment was expected.
He never talked specifics, yet it was evident he was plagued by the sights, sounds and memories he could never escape.
Yet he never faded in his love for freedom, liberty and this country. He also loved deeply his daughter and grand-daughter, as well as his precious furry friends. This Old Soldier was a generous man, in a quiet way. He never sought accolades nor wanted recognition and would get angry if he found I revealed this but many times he would call and ask me to stop by cause he needed to talk to me. Usually, he had something he wanted to share with someone else; it might be money, one time an electric wheelchair. But he thought of others a lot and shared what he could whenever he could.
In Sunday School, he would listen carefully, then ask questions or contribute an opinion from a perspective many had never thought of. His presence made me dig deeper and search my own understanding of faith and belief beyond where I was comfortable.
Then one day my buddy got relief from his physical pain, relief from his mental torment. I have no doubt the minute he stopped living on Earth, he was welcomed into heaven by Jesus. I wish I could have felt sorry about his leaving, but fact is I was glad his suffering was over.
The Modern Soldier
The third soldier is the embodiment of today’s military. Air Force by branch. Technical by training and skill. What he does allows the big jets to fly. He has to do those tasks flawlessly for the huge behemoths to stay airborne. He has been deployed many times abroad, some so sensitive even his wife and children couldn’t be told the destination. The execution of his trade is so critical as many millions in equipment and soldiers’ lives as well as other valuable cargo depend on him and his team.
He and his family have seen two assignment locations over 2,000 miles apart, and his next base is in a country where English isn’t even in the top five languages used. His generation represents a renaissance and renewed respect for our nation’s Armed Forces.
Where they all come together
No doubt in my mind my father-in-law and the Vietnam Veteran both claimed salvation through Jesus Christ’s death on the cross. Each accepted the gift although they searched to understand how they could be worthy given the things seen, maybe done, in a lifetime. The younger soldier has also accepted Christ, to my great joy.
I have fond memories of both of Old Soldiers, and I look forward to seeing these war-torn veterans on the other side in a land where there will be no tears, no mourning, no crying nor pain. I hold the modern soldier in the highest of regard as well because of his, and his family’s sacrifice.
I am a better man for having known them. Each has challenged my thinking and enhanced my appreciation for peacetime. Each has stood on that line between good and evil with a resolve to give whatever is required to defend my freedom. Different situations spanning WW II, Korea, Viet Nam and the current conflicts. Each was committed, willing to sacrifice whatever was needed for these United States of America.
I thank God I was part of a generation never needed for a war. I pray for those who today are called into harm’s way across the globe.
If you see one, give a soldier his due with respect. He stood or stands there for you when needed. Maybe you were the soldier standing for us all.
General McArthur said “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” Let’s give them the proper accolades before they do.
