What Is a Vet?

James Tworow

WHAT IS A VET

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept our nation safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?

He’s the cop on the beat who spent six months in Bosnia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of heroic bravery.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for months.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another-or didn't come back AT ALL.

He is the drill instructor who has never seen combat-but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and slackers into soldiers, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the Unknown Soldier in The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, whose presence must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket … palsied now and aggravatingly slow … who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being – a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of those who take freedom for granted.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU." Remember November 11th is Remembrance Day!

"It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag."

The passage above was written by a military chaplain. It serves as a reminder for all of us on Remembrance Day

As heard on the QR77 radio station in November 2006... John Huthersall who was selling poppies for Remembrance Day (at Chinook Centre in Calgary)

[Thanks to my friend Fred Sheppard - www.pbase.com/fredsheppard - for some rescue work on the image]


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