I’ll call him Pete. Pete isn’t his real name. He’s not a public person and would never want to be, so I’m not going to make him one. His story, though, is more common than you realize.
I met him years ago. We were talking during halftime of a game we were watching when I was visiting friends in Florida.
I had been doing veteran interviews at the local American Legion during that visit when he told me he served in Vietnam.
Pete is a humble 80+ year old. His wife had died a few years back, and he missed her dearly.
As we were talking, he seemed to drift into the past, and started telling me about his combat experience. He began gently, thoughtfully staring forward as if seeing it painfully all over again. You could tell he was touching memories darkly hidden and touched as rarely as possible.
I won’t retell the horrors he described. I’ve talked to many veterans about their time in combat. This was as bad as you could possibly imagine. He continued. Still staring forward, beginning to fumble for the right words.
I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to the present. It broke the spell. We picked up talking about the game we were watching.
What made me want to share this is what happened a week ago.
I was visiting Florida again. I had arrived 10 pm ish. He, Pete, had seen his neighbors, my friends, garage door open and lights on unusually at this late hour. He had come across the street to check on them to make sure everyone was OK and no one was being robbed or held at gunpoint. Neighborly. Not nosey in the least. But think about that. He walked right over, thinking that danger was one of the possibilities without any hesitation. To look after his neighbor.
This humble guy. Still with the courage of the soldier looking out for those around him.
So when you see these older veterans, you do them honor by imagining them in their earlier days and remembering that the heart of the lion of their youth still lives in the body of the old gentleman standing before you.
Good article Bill . I talk to veterans all the time at the VA . In the cafeteria I’ll purposely sit down by an older gentleman , A few months back I asked an older black gentleman if I could share his table ? He said please , when I asked him how he was doing he said he was good . When so asked him why he was here that particular day , he said following up with his oncologist . And then he began telling me how when he was in Nam they would send them into the jungle after they had dropped the Napalm bombs . He said it would be dripping down from the trees onto their clothing . They didn’t think about it , just doing what they were told . The conversation continued till we were done eating . He was a big man , I could just imagine him in his youth . I thanked him for his service . He thank me for sharing a table with him . He was proud of his service , and thankful for the VA taking care of him . How ironic . God bless our veterans !
Awesome Wayne. A lot of the Vietnam vets still hide the hurt from the “welcome” they received coming home. Good on you for honoring this soldier.