I have had several male relatives in active service during Wars. My Mother’s Father, Harley Sullivan, was in the Army at the beginning of WWII, and all I ever was able to get out of my Mom was that when her Dad came home, he was not the same man who had left. He was angry, all the time. What he had seen on his tours to various countries had changed him, even though he sent home letters to my Grandma showing him and his buddies, arms wrapped around each other, smiling in front of their tents.
He didn’t smile when he came home. He drank. He got into fist fights. He yelled at my Grandma. He never yelled at my Mom or her brother, but he didn’t parent them, either.
He killed himself. It was never spoken about. I learned not to ask too many questions. He died when I was a toddler, so I never really knew him.
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My Father, who was born in 1934, graduated from High School in 1951 and enrolled at the University of Michigan. He rushed a fraternity and spent his first semester of school doing typical frat boy things, meaning, not studying. At the end of the semester, he had flunked his classes.
His Father informed him that a stint in the Army would get him on the right path, so Dad enlisted. He went to Basic Training and at the end, he was sent to see the Communications Officer. He was told that he had two choices-join a group that was training to be in the Communications Corp., or join the Infantry.
He chose the Communications Corp. Now, the catch was, they had three weeks to learn to type 60 words a minute. You see, our soldiers that were intercepting messages being sent in the Korean Army were typing those messages out in Morse Code. My Dad’s job would be to listen to the Morse Code and type out what he heard, at a rate of 60 words a minute. It was either that, or strap on a weapon and get shipped to Korea.
He learned to type. And for his tour in the Army, he sat in a hot barracks in Texas and typed out Morse Code for the Army Communications Corp. Which, by the way, was technically a branch of the C.I.A., so my Dad always joked that he was really a C.I.A. agent.
He spent his time in the C.C., and when it was over, the G.I. Bill paid for him to go back to college. He chose Wayne State University instead, studied History and Geography and got a teaching certificate, and married his sister’s college roommate, my Mother, in 1959. 10 years later, they adopted me.
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Sometimes when I sit and just think about what is going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, when I think about how 19 year olds are dying there, it makes me so sad I can hardly breathe. Because while I absolutely agree that we have to keep America safe, I think of those Mothers, watching their sons and daughters get on buses and airplanes, not wanting to allow themselves to think that it might be the last time they see their children alive.
If this war doesn’t end in seven years, it could be my oldest son getting on one of those planes. I could be that Mother wondering if he’ll come home, and then he could be that boy coming home, but changed forever. I don’t have any family members buried in Arlington Cemetery, or serving in Iraq, and today, my heart goes out to everyone who does. And if you are with your Dad today, or your Uncle or Grandpa or Aunt or whomever in your family did serve in a war and came back, please hug them tight for me, and tell them, thank you.
My dad was in Europe in WWII. He turned 18 a month before Pearl Harbor and was the youngest of four brothers to enlist, serve, and thankfully, return home.
Dad died in October. All weekend, whenever I see a serviceman, young or old, I burst into tears.
Becki-Oh, I’m so sorry your Dad passed away last October. This weekend must have been hard for you. {{hugs}}
My Dad served in Vietnam and he’s had some issues over the years, but nothing too bad. I don’t know how any of the men or women could return home from any war unscathed.
My brother served in the Gulf War when I was in my senior year of high school and it was difficult for me because my brother and I were (are) very close. If it was that hard for me, I can’t even imagine how difficult it was for my mom. First her husband, then her son.
I don’t think I could be as strong if it were my son.
Hi,
I’m sorry for your loss.
What saddens me even more than the deaths is the abuse our troops (British) get from Islamic fundamentalist sympathisers.
I watch a local regiment return to their barracks, carrying and wheeling their injured comrades, so they could take the salute, only to be abused and spat at.
Ok these idiots were arrested or beaten up by the crowd, but what must have been going through those troops minds.
In Afghanistan they watched their comrades shot and blown to bits. They must have cried in frustration at the loss of young life, but they carried out their duty for Queen and country. They suffered to protect you and me.
These young, brave, men return home, the home they fought to protect, only to be humiliated in the street.
I watched, as they matched, carrying themselves with dignity, not even stopping to wipe the spit from their faces, and I cried with shame at the way they had been treated.
God bless all our troops and their families.
All the best – J Tighe
My grandpa was in WWII and became a drunk, but at least he was happy and not mean. (he was in the planes, so maybe that helped?)
My dad was in Vietnam and was injured badly, his buddy died in the same blast. He became a mean and drunken guy. But he has changed and is now pretty nice.
My husband was in during the Gulf War, and he was in Intelligence, did not get to fight, though he wanted to.
My son is going in the military this summer. It is a little different being on the parenting end, but we couldn’t be more proud of him. Even if he does serve in the war, we know he will come out OK because he has God as his partner. Nothing will happen to him outside of the will of God, and he will be able to process what happens and come out OK. Of this, we are confident! We also wouldn’t let him live in anger, we’d make him get counselling and we’d pray our hearts out for him. I wish my grandparents and parents had been more trusting of God.
Thank you for your post. It is nice to take the time to actually remember why we are getting a long holiday. My dad is actually retiring from the Army Reserve tomorrow after 35 years of service and I have had other family members in the military as well. He loves serving our country & I know he will miss it dearly.