Thursday, November 11, 2010

I Served

The photo was taken on my selection as Airman of the Quarter for the aircraft base I was assigned to.   The selection was made due to my duties in the administration of a combat aircraft unit.   Serious guy then.  Serious guy now.  Some things never change.

I don't want recognition on Veteran's Day or any other day that honors veteran's of our armed forces.  Mine was a non combat position in support of combat aircraft.  No war stories.   No Purple Heart.  No Post Combat Distress Disorder.  Just honorable service.

Any recogition should go to veteran's who saw combat and lived to tell about it.  The rest of us quietly did what we were told, did our time and got out.  It was a job.  Each of us did it.  My heart breaks for the others who were not so lucky and still suffer from the time they spent in the armed forces.  Those should be celebrated and thanked.  Those should always be honored.

Thank you to those who fought and lived to tell about it.


La Roo said...

Yes, thank you to those of you who have fought for our freedoms. Yes, you were a part of it and should be thanked. If you weren't there they couldn't do their jobs. The way I see it is as a group effort. I do understand what you mean about combat, they did and still do suffer what the rest of us will never quite understand. A big salute from me and my heart goes out to them.
You looked very handsome in that uniform Bob.

weeder said...

My grandfather fought in WW2, seeing a lot of combat. He was a poor country hick with a grade 3 education, and was not prepared for the trauma he saw. He came back from the war as an alcoholic wife-beating womanizer. He suffered from horrible nightmares, just about every night for the rest of his life. His best friend and him were storming the beach at Normandy, his friend in front of him, when a shell blew his friend's head off, splattering my grandfatehr with blood and brains and gore. Talk about PTSD!! Alcohol was the only way he knew how to deal with the stress. A lot of his buddies who went to war with him fell into the same self-destructive patterns. My grandmother kicked him out of the house when my mom was 16 years old, and he moved halfway across the country and eventually drank himself to death in a fleabag motel. Thankfully my mother and her siblings were able to break the cycle of violence and abuse, and all went on to good careers and happy families.

I salute all military people who put their life (and sanity) on the line to defend their country. Bob is too modest, as he was a team player. The support staff who back up the warriors are just as important in winning the battles.

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