Veterans Day, the ONE day that is devoted to thanking those who served in the military. What does it mean to "serve in the military?"
To some, it means a young son or a daughter, leaving home for perhaps the first time, turned over to strangers who are intent of "molding" in to an image of their making. It means changing the life of this boy or girl who they are taking away, and returning them as mature highly trained adults, and leaving many of those "traits" behind, never to surface again. They leave home as children and are returned as adults.
In some cases, they are watched, walking out of the door, by someone who has endured what they will soon be going through. In some cases, they have gone off, "to war." Their lives will soon be "in harms way." Only those who have been there, know of the anguish a Mother experiences, seeing her son, go off to war.
I was in the "service" but was never faced with having to face an enemy, one who wanted to take my life. I have never been in the boots of a soldier, in a landing craft, with shells and gunfire, everywhere, knowing that soon that door would be lowered and I would be facing the guns of an enemy, and that many of those around me, would be wounded or killed."
"Thank You, for your Service." Doesn't seem like enough, does it?
My Grandfather, Caleb Dooley, served in the Civil War. My Dad, Ralph Dean Dooley, served in WWI. My Brother, Dean Shannon Dooley, was in WWII. I was in the Navy for four years during the Korean War. My son, Dean Dooley served during Viet Nam. Son Brad was in Desert Storm.
My Dad told of one occasion, in Germany, WWI, he had left his communications post to get a breath of fresh air. He walked in to a nearby trench where some of his buddies were playing cards. He declined an invitation to join in and kept walking, not far away from them, a shell came in and exploded. All of his friends playing cards, were gone. His "guardian angel" had intervened and saved his life.
Caleb Dooley, wrote of seeing his son, my Dad, taking the train and heading off to war. My Dad related his feelings when seeing his son, my Brother, heading off to war in WWII, and related similar feelings when I left for Boot Camp. I know of the devastating feeling I experienced when the recruiters came, early one morning, to take my Son, Brad, off to boot camp. His Mother and I, cried for hours.
