A Day For Our Veterans...

When I was a kid I thought everybody wore a money belt and carried a gun.

That's because I found out early that I was pretty good at the game of pool.  As in, by 14 or so.  And by the time I was 16 I was on the road, hustling up a storm, night after night.  Dirty dive bars located by river bridges were my specialty.  Even at that tender age.  It seems that most didn't believe a snot-nosed kid could take their wallet.

They were wrong.

However, playing pool 8 or 10 hours a day, when I should have been in school, as in, high school, and studying, meant I was pretty much a pool hall rat.  So much so I "brag" that were it not for the fact my 1st cousin Louise was my typing teacher, I would not have graduated from high school.  

I'm not kidding.

And it grew worse from there.  I flunked out of 4 colleges (actually, I think you have to attend classes to flunk them, don't you?) while failing to worry about failing.  I frankly didn't give a damn about school, or my future, or life in general.  All I wanted to do was take OPM (Other Peoples' Money) across a hot pool table.  And play poker.  And race cars.  And drink beer.  I was averaging a new car every six months.  It was joyous.  Splendiferous!    

And then it all came crashing down.  I opened the mail one day and there it was:  "Greetings," it said.  "You're going to die."  

Actually, it didn't say that, but that's what it meant.  The U. S. of A. was fattening up its armed forces so that it could teach those uppity little Viet Cong a thing or two.  I'd been drafted.  To go off to some God-forsaken place on the other side of the planet, and fight some God-forsaken people for some reason-or-other.  But that was in the conscription days when our Gubmint reached out an touched millions of young  men like me and sent them off to war.  To die.  And now it was my turn.

I'd like to say I was in good shape when I showed up for basic training that October 31st (talk about a trick!), 1966.  I'd like to say that, but I can't.  And they made me pay for it.  For the following 16 weeks they tore me down to nothing but sinew and bone, and then built me back up.  They took me on a physical and mental and emotional journey like none other I'd ever traveled.  A journey designed to turn me, and those around me, into MEN.

I'm acrophobic, which means "afraid of heights."  Imagine me then leaping off a 61' parachute jump training tower.  Neither can I.  Again.  

And it wasn't just me.  There were men from all over America, from all economic strata and from all educational backgrounds.  Black, White, Red and Yellow.  All blended together in the giant Mixmaster called the military.  In just a few short weeks we were taken from raw recruits and turned into hardened soldiers.  Marching in sync on the parade ground.  Proud, patriotic, tough as nails, heads held high.

We'd been turned into a lean, mean fighting machine.  And then it was time to go off and prove it.  And we did.  Until the brass told us it was time to come home.  Those of us who were still alive.  To resume our civilian duties.  To go back to our jobs and our schools and our families.  And to then proceed to turn our moms and dads and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and all our cousins and friends and neighbors into Patriots!  Because we were able to educate them about what we'd done in the military.  About what we'd accomplished.  And how the experience had changed us for the better.

It was then time to get married and start a business and have some kids and watch America mature.  And it was that way for every soldier I'd met.  While those who had avoided the draft, or been fortunate enough not to be called, you missed something.  Something great.    

I can say I became a Man because of my military experience.  I might have anyway, but the Army certaiinly accelerated - and guaranteed - that process.  I can tell you they beat the little boy out of me and put back a man.  And there's 1,800,000 of us veterans in America today.  Most are proving their military experience enriched their lives.  I know it did mine.  

If you have a say in whether a young man or woman in your life might benefit from service in one of the six branches of our military, please recommend that they do.  It changed my life for the better.  It could do the same for them...