Thank you for your service

I wrote most of this a few days after Veterans Day, the Monday in November when we honor those of our citizens who have faced death in battle, many of them who have made “the ultimate sacrifice” to preserve our nation.

The guys who come in big trucks to disappear our household waste came at their usual hour, as they have every Monday in the time before, and likely well after, I’ve lived here.

I was talking recently with a young Marine about our respective service and I mentioned about old men calling our youth heroes.

“They are not all heroes,” I said.

“You may find some people who disagree with you,” he replied.

There the conversation ended as he had to move on to another commitment, and we did not finish the discussion. I served 20 years in the U.S. Navy and would have enjoyed more time to share views, including about the multitude of volunteer warriors who signed up for the education, pay and benefits and hope they are not called upon to fertilize killing fields.

There was a young woman of my acquaintance who graduated from high school and joined the Air Force as a medic. She soon found herself safely assigned to a post in Ohio. Then there was the First Gulf War in August 1990. Our move to an all-volunteer fighting force meant our nation was a little short of warriors, and the young woman found herself facing deployment to the killing field. She was not happy, but that’s the risk when you put on the uniform.

I knew her, though mostly through my friend –and her father – with whom I was friends; she would have gone willingly, if not happily, and served admirably. If placed in the midst of deliberate death and destruction, she would have done heroic things, but my point was that she did not initially pursue the opportunity, and would gladly have avoided it.

A few years earlier, in a bar in Italy, as I drank beer and shared conversation the night before my ship pulled out to yet another war zone, a barmaid told me when I would return.

“How do you know when I’ll be back,” I queried the barmaid. “Heck, I don’t even know.”

“Easy,” she replied. “The Russian navy also stops here, and you cannot both be here at the same time.”

Services and supply delivery must be scheduled. Every supplier, from those who fill your fuel tanks to those who keep the beer flowing knows when you will return. Their serve — and pay — depends on being ready with the correct amount of the correct product.

I went back to my ship about U.S. and Russian sailors in port together, chasing the same beer and good times. How eagerly would each of us point weapons at the other when the next sunrise arrived.

I submit we unfairly tell our youth — young men especially — their unquestioned obedience to the call of war makes them Heroes. Certainly there are many who will be faced with situations to which their reply will qualify them as heroes, but in war, most of us, give a chance to consider, want only to survive.

Allow me, please, to suggest that we have much closer to home many who more regularly volunteer for more immediate heroic opportunities. Like the soldiers and sailors preciously mentioned, most of them do not consider their performance more than just another day at the office.

But when any police officer or firefighter girds for the day’s assignment, they step out to face the possibility that the next memorial service will be for them. When a medical responder or doctor or nurse run to the side of a patient, they deliberately put themselves in close contact with disease, some of which, as our recent experience with pandemic illustrated, can be as deadly as an AR-15.

We are sorely in need of a national holiday to honor the service of those among us who don a mantle of heroic potential to ensure the health and security of the rest of us. Many of them have and will miss out on the celebrations the rest of us expect to share in this Holiday Season.

But wait! We have Christmas, a day unique on our calendar to celebrate all those who sacrifice their lives so the rest of their fellows can enjoy ours.