Since I was very small my father has always instilled a sense of justice in me.  If my two brothers or I did something wrong, he would sit us down and talk it out.  Punishments were usually mild. It was the sense that we’d let him down that was more of a punishment than anything else.  Just one look from my father was enough to make us toe the line.

My father is a Veteran.  It wasn’t until I was much older that he was even willing to discuss his tours with me and even then I could tell it didn’t sit well with him to talk about it.  Regardless of that, he served his country and he was proud of it.  He hung a flag on our front porch for years and usually seemed maudlin around this time every year.  Possibly because his birthday is only a few days away from Veterans day, but I doubt it.  Dad never did care how old he was.

For the past few years, since my departure from college and the rampant use of e-mail has taken over everything, my father has sent out his thoughts on Veterans Day and what it means to him.  I’ve gained his permission to republish what he has to say this year.  It is something that I think everyone needs to read at least once.

The first Veteran’s Day I observed after my military service was in 1972 and the paper of record in my local area printed an essay depicting the battlefield epic of a Revolutionary soldier describing his heroics. I don’t normally think of one single soldier as an individual, including those I served with from 1968-71 in the US Army.

To do so relegates the heroics of the many support personnel, the medics and corpsmen, and the families back home to a secondary status. America has been either at war or at war-alert status since I was old enough to remember. Born in the post-WWII year of 1950 and being the son of Navy vet of Pacific campaign in WWII I have essentially not known a time of total peace in my lifetime considering Korea, the Cuban missile crisis, the Vietnam Conflict, and the subsequent engagements leading up to the Gulf War, which still continues at this moment.

The recent shootings at a Texas military installation, along with the involvement of military veteran in the D.C. sniper-shooting a few years ago, and the numerable and little publicized suicides of veterans should be a reminder to all citizens of this warlike nation that casualties don’t occur only on the battlefield.

The American culture has done its best to support the members of the actively serving, but are still many in America that give little, if any, thought the service of men and women in the military. America does a very good job of distracting itself with music, media, and technology. The various sounds of music notes and subsequent battle-like sounds of a computer game in no way reflect the actual happenings in a live-fire situation. The drug culture and the neighborhoods it thrives in have shootings on a daily basis but none of shooter’s or the death of victims rank in the category of valor and honor to Nation, merely they relegate themselves to addicted and twisted joy-riders killing the innocent during the commission of felonious assault. No one mourns when
gang-bangers die for all the obvious and just reasons.

When all the high-school bands strike up a tune to celebrate the service of Americans on Veteran’s Day, they don’t have in mind the many vets who join organizations or do individual efforts to bring about a dialogue for peace. The young men and women in our schools and universities are taught to respect and honor the veterans for their service, while possibly considering such service for themselves. They are not given equal access to the veterans that have served honorably and converse about the real cost of war in America. Those who served in Vietnam, saw the elephant firsthand, and were wounded as young men and returned home and desire a peace that could be reached if only hands were extended.

The men who determine the fate our youth that go to war are rarely the same men that serve and know war. There are some exceptions, and sadly, a few become tainted with the corruption of political office and disgrace the service of all.

This year 2009, is a longtime past my discharge date. I reflect on the many who have given their lives in the time that has past and those that suffer the ravages of wartime injuries for the rest of their lives. That includes PTSD. Anyone that served understands the return fire, boobie-traps, road-side explosives, in-coming rounds, napalm, Agent Orange, and depleted uranium rounds, as well as a plethora of stealth weapons.

PTSD is a hidden killer. A terrorist in its own right. American men and women who serve in the Reserves or National Guard are subject to the realities of regular duty in this age of perpetual war on terror. Most are not prepared for the ravages of conflict and join the ranks of many who served in the long-ago 10,000 day war who come home to suffer a recurring horror.

He is no one unique. He grew up in Hialeah, Florida and lost his father to an auto accident when he was a young teen. He wanted to be an anthropologist. As a young teen he spent time in the Everglades. He could have gotten a deferment, but chose to serve his country in Vietnam. Several in his unit were killed in action in 1968. He made his way to the end of his commitment and once again joined the civilian ranks.

Because we had served together he came to visit me in 1973. A long journey to Nebraska from Florida. He brought his wife, the proverbial girl next door. Anecdotally, the boy at the other next door was KC of KC and the Sunshine Band fame. Pat was indicative of all young men who served during Nam. He was bright, aspiring, and a damn-straight-shooter. He returned to Hialeah and stayed until 1983 when the only place he could get counseling at the VA was in Gainesville or Lake City and he moved north.

Pat was not exceptional other than I trusted my life with him, but due to the distance we lost contact over the years. Whether the society failed, the system failed, or Pat failed himself, he took his life in the year 2000. The year Bush and Cheney would bring a new era of war to the warlike nation of America.

Pat was not the kind to let issues pass without comment. He brought to the fore the treatment of blacks in the military during his active service. During the US Army transition to all-volunteer he made brave comments about the second-hand treatment of blacks, both draftee and volunteer.

I don’t know what evils Pat couldn’t conquer in that election year. I do know that as decided to end his life a dramatic change came to America. We became a warlike nation once again after 9-11. The men who decided that were not military men. Our military men were silent and the decision was made by political men. Those of age to serve in Vietnam when Pat did, but never made the grade.

We lose men and women daily now. Most Americans are oblivious. Too wrapped up in their personal Facebook, or Twitter, or who’s hot in Hollywood. Americans seem to want to be distracted. They don’t want to know the horrors of war, in the zone, or back at home, long after the shells have landed.

On Veteran’s Day morning, as I have done for now 38 years, at sunrise I will salute the men who gave their lives for me to have the right to stand before a flag that represents the home of the brave and land of the free. But in my heart of hearts, Pat took away a life that was more valuable than many who stand oblivious to the true sacrifice of the veteran.

America is a warlike nation and yet too many do not understand the sacrifice nor the horror. I fear it never will.

- Denny Cautrell

I am not a veteran, but I am the daughter of one.  And I salute all veterans, past, present and future.  This day is for you.  And I’m including a link to a video that my father sent as well.  I hope you enjoy it. It certainly speaks volumes and with a catchy tune.

\”I Don\’t Wanna Be Your Soldier Anymore\” by The Bombay Sweets

P.S. Thank you, Dad.  You’re the best.

Tags: Commentary, Holiday