67. My Generation

"The Soldier, above all other men, is required to practice the greatest acts of religious training - sacrifice.  However horrible the incidents of war may be, the Soldier who is called upon to offer and to give his life for his country is the noblest development of mankind.
~General of the Army Douglas MacArthur, May 12th, 1962

When 9/11 happened, I wasn't just a kid.  I was a senior in high school, about to turn eighteen and officially become an adult.  The next year, as a freshman in college, I joined ROTC and began my military career.  In terms of my commitment to the program, I'd passed the point of no return by the time we invaded Iraq on March 19th, 2003.  This is why it frustrates me now to no end when people emphasize the fact that the current war is being fought by an "all-volunteer force," as if this somehow makes it more okay when bad things happen over there.

It's an all-volunteer force...but so what?  

Does that make the sacrifices of those volunteers mean any less?  There is no relative scale for self-sacrifice, and, if anything, volunteering to put oneself in harms way should make it mean that much more.  The force that constitutes today’s military is unlike any other form of volunteer work or duty in existence.  It is, in the words of General MacArthur, among the noblest developments of mankind.  In my words, I don’t care what it is you’re doing – unless your job here at home involves getting shot at every day or travelling along roads where people routinely get blown up, there’s simply no comparison.  That is not to say, by any means, that every person who serves deserves some sort of medal – there are a handful of individuals with whom I’ve served that I’m embarrassed to call Soldiers in the United States Army.  But they are the exception and not the rule. 

The fact that it is an all-volunteer force just makes the people who quietly resent the military's "privileges" and benefits seem even more ridiculous – the option of signing up is open to all those complainers in the same way it was open to me, to all those who came before me, and to all those who've chosen to sign on the dotted line over the past ten years.  For me, at least, it was never about the money, the benefits, solving violence with violence, or even the ability to do all the fun stuff, like jumping out of airplanes and shooting big guns.  Even the fun stuff comes with the price tag of a whole lot of suck and waiting around on someone to tell you what to do next.  And don’t get me started on the deployment thing.  We all go over there, knowing full well it could be us who doesn't get to come home alive, but discounting the probability and believing instead that we will be “okay.”  All we want to do is put our heads down and get through whatever it is we have to do so we can get back home to our families and away from the place that’s overshadowed by death at all times.  It’s not fun over there and it’s not supposed to be.  To call it a job is like the understatement of the year.  No, make that the century.  The E-3 Private First Class on the front lines may be getting paid…but his meager $2,000 a month paycheck is hardly enough to justify him coming home to his wife and newborn baby in a wooden box.   And therein lies another great paradox of inequity:  never before have the debts of so many been paid by so few.  When I observe the self-entitlement of some members of my generation, I literally feel sick to my stomach and have to physically separate myself from the situation.  Again, those individuals are the exception and not the rule, but it's funny how one or two bad apples have the ability to sour the whole batch.

Call me old-fashioned (or maybe even a little boring?), but this lack of patience with my own generation is what contributes in part to the respect and appreciation I have for my grandparents' generation.  By chance, I ended up having drinks and dinner a few nights ago with three wonderful people who've been around for long enough to know what matters most in life.  I've never met them before, but one of them - a man named Randy - literally could not stop crying and hugging me as I told him my story about Jon.  He took pictures of the photos I carry with me in my wallet, wrote down our names, and toasted to my sweetheart.  He also invited me to stop by the restaurant anytime for a glass of wine - he promised he'd be there and would be honored to hear more of my stories about the husband whose absence in my life and home never seems to get any easier.

Just a couple of weeks before this unexpected surprise,  I was fortunate enough to be in the presence of some of the greatest and most patriotic men and women I've ever met:  veterans of the Vietnam War.  As a local representative of the American Widow Project, I attended the reunion banquet of the Tan Son Nhut Association at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.  A slight mix-up in the start time meant my cousin and I were a little late, which, considering it was a military event and all, didn't bode too well for the rest of the night.  However, things improved ...and quickly.  I approached the chapter president to thank him for having us and he immediately insisted on announcing Jon's name to the entire room.  As he listed the dates and place of Jon's death, he asked me to stand up and be recognized, and then the entire room followed in a standing ovation.  I was beyond touched...and, of course, in tears.  The Association also presented me with a coveted unit coin, which I am honored to be able to add to my collection of military coins.  The entire experience was truly the modern version of magical.  It made me prouder than ever of my sweet husband, whose sacrifice allowed me to experience such gratitude and kindness from complete strangers.

At the banquet, I knew Jon was right there with me.  While eating dessert, a nut from my brownie escaped and somehow made its way down the front of my dress.  My first thoughts were great, just what I need...but only moments later I had to laugh as I remembered the story about the hot brass going down the front of my shirt back in 2003.  I realized this was just Jon's way of encouraging me to smile, even in the midst of an incredibly emotional event.  What more can I say?  Jon was one of those special members of my generation who gives me hope for the future.  His sacrifice was the most selfless act a person could possibly perform, and his love for me was endless.  I hit the husband lottery.  It doesn't get much better than that.