Veterans Day

Yesterday was Veterans Day. My friend, Dan McCormick writes a Veterans Day commentary every year. He sends it to friends and family. I am honored to be included on that list.  His thoughts and perspectives are powerful.

Here it is.

Veterans Day 2012

Ayn Rand said that a persons view of the world is based upon the sum total of ones life experiences.  Pausing to think about that makes it a hard point to argue.  Since I last wrote thoughts on Veterans Day two seminal experiences has altered my view.  

One was a visit to the military beach heads and American Cemetery at Normandy, France.  It's a somber, poignant place.  The elation of the success of the invasion that arguably was the beginning of the end of World War II in Europe is overshadowed by the staggering loss of human life that leaves a sensible person asking why there is war in the first place.

9,387 perfectly aligned white crosses and markers dot the deep green grass holding silent vigil over a remembrance of horrific battle and ultimately, sadness.  That number does not begin to count the wounded, physically and mentally, and what families and loved ones back home also experienced.  Anyone that goes there cannot avoid deep feelings of an array of emotion at the realization of the pain of the suffering.  Even if you do not know someone that was there, there is somehow still a feeling of a sense of loss.

The second event that changed my perspective on Veterans Day this year, if the loss of a great WWII Veteran, Preston L. McCormick, my Dad.  Leaving home right after college and only returning for brief visits pushed a relationship that was never truly close even further away.  Moving he, and my mom, close for the last 3 years brought us together more than we had ever been.

The term "comrades in arms" is used to describe many types of relationships where two or more people share a common goal or unite to solve a mutual task.  Originally, it was about those that fight, or are prepared to fight, for their country in a battle for a common  cause.   To be in service and experience war as a combat solider truly qualifies one for the title of comrade in arms.  There is a connection that we all feel that causes us to think about those that were lost even though we may not have know them well.  In the moment of combat and firefights we are all one in a way that may be hard to achieve in any other setting.

Service men and women fall into two other categories: those that have been in actual combat and those that have not.  It's a matter of happenstance really.  If you ever want to know how it feels to have a total and complete lack if control of your destiny, just join the service.  Veterans that may not have actually been in combat qualify as a comrade in arms in my view.  They were there, they showed up and that alone states their willingness to serve if called.

Over the last three years I took my dad to the VA hospital in Charleston, SC for countless appointments.  I sat with him as we watched the sadness, helplessness and in some cases hopelessness of men and women that served our country and are now suffering.  They are suffering, physically, emotionally and in some cases financially through a VA system that is flawed at best and seems truly dysfunctional. The word frustration is not strong enough to describe what they have to go through to get help including the humiliation of being herded like cattle thought the system.

Awhile back, my dad was sent for psychological evaluation by a young Doctor to determine if his service related disability should be increased.  He was 89 years old.  I sat with him through the examination as the psychologist, with no military experience, probed with direct questions about dad's injuries. He asked him specifically to talk about the day he landed on the beaches of Leyte, in the south Pacific, only to be blasted by mortar fire and lie in a explosion crater filled with salt water and sand with severe wounds to his legs and head.   I put my arm around his shoulder as this strong 89 year old man cried uncontrollably as he remembered the day he thought he was dying. 

In truth, some of my own bad days in Viet Nam crept into my thoughts as I realized the only difference in his experiences and mine were the severity of his injuries and time.

I thought back to the first memory I have of my dad hugging my neck; he was not one to hand out affection easily.  It was in the backyard of our Alabama home the night before I left for Viet Nam.  I had walked away from the house back into the woods where I spent much of my childhood, hunting and hiding. There were still remnants of the old fort my brother and I had built.  Walking back in the late dusk, I noticed my dad standing on the back porch alone.  He walked down the steps and came up to me as I approached the house.  Without saying a word he put his arm around me in what I have always thought of as a hug.  It was like, for the first time, we really had something in common.  It was more than a rite of passage into manhood, it was more of a transformation into brotherhood. There was a connection that he, at that time, understood much better than I.  That was the moment my dad and I became more than father and son; we became comrades in arms.  Unfortunately, that's the only way it can be done.

Respectfully,

Dan McCormick
1st Lieutenant
199th  Light Infantry
1968 -1970