Flash forward a generation later when I was growing up in the 70s, and nobody wanted to go into the military--not unless there were no other viable options for career and livelihood. That may be a terrible thing to admit, but coming from a civilian family living in a military town in eastern North Carolina, I can say that it was true. At that time (the Vietnam era), the military did not have the greatest of reputations amongst the townsfolk, even though it was the main source of business. This was always a bit confusing (and disconcerting) to me, but it is how I remember it.
Many of my schoolmates had fathers in the military, and there always seemed to be an unspoken barrier between our military and civilian parents. Perhaps it was because of the turmoil surrounding the Vietnam War and the underlying fear that these military dads/husbands may never return home. Fortunately, I can only remember one friend who lost a father in the war. Many came home very different, but a few seemed unchanged. Regardless, my heart always swelled with a mixture of fear, respect, and admiration when these dads were around. Somehow, in my little girl mind, I knew these men had done something truly great that most of us would never fully understand. Like my grandfather, they would never be able to speak of what they encountered (both good and bad), because it was (and is) too difficult. I know, because I probed my grandfather's mind for years, trying to dig out stories from WWII. I finally had to accept that some things are better left closed to the rest of the world.
As I got older, I quickly learned there was an unwritten rule regarding these young, extremely good-looking military men who dominated the single male population of my hometown: good, southern girls were to stay very far away! I was warned (either explicitly or implicitly - I can't remember) that they would either break my heart, whisk me away to some poor, industrial Yankee city, or die in Vietnam. Tattoos, cigarettes, and girlie clubs were the by-products of their life, which only bolstered parental warnings to shun them at all costs. But that notion never sat right with me. These guys had given up freedoms offered by civilian life to ensure my safety. Many of them would be shipped off to Vietnam or who-knows-where else and would never come home--and if they did, they would be forever changed.
I must confess, that while I adhered to the warning to stay away, I always felt a sense of pride that I lived in a town where these young men trained so vigorously for battle. For that reason, I didn't mind the hoots and catcalls they gave me and my high school friends as we cruised the streets on the weekends or the rowdy behavior at a an action movie that made us feel like we were watching a film in the barracks. Nevertheless, several of my school friends succumbed to temptation and broke the rule, agreeing to date servicemen--and one even had the audacity to marry one! I can proudly say they are still happily married to this day!
My, how times do change! Thankfully, I can report there is great pride in servicing the local troops in my hometown. Jet flyovers and mock artillery maneuvers are no longer considered a noisome nuisance but rather the "sound of freedom." I especially love seeing the welcome home banners strewn down the highway near the main gate of the base. I get all choked up at knowing these unrecognized, modern-day heroes are getting just a bit of recognition for the sacrifices they make on a daily basis for me and my family and for all Americans. They deserve so much more.
Veterans, you are greatly appreciated and deeply loved! A heart-felt thank you for all you have done for this great country we call home!
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