Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Kokomo, Indiana

A, shall we say, huge field with chairs which people brought for comfort. A stage from which either speakers, or bands were presented.  Music of the 60's, 70's were heard through the air.  The attendees,many looking like Hippies of that time, could be heard singing, or saying, "Oh, this was a song from that ....."  Fair food was abundant.  Men, baby boomers, now fathers, grandfathers, embraced each other and said, "Welcome home brother".  People like myself, simply said, "Thank you".  These are the Veterans of The Viet Nam War.  They have come to the 29th Reunion in Kokomo, Indiana.  They come with wives, girlfriends, sisters, some with parents!  They come with sorrow, joy, memories, some which just can't be forgotten.  They come with respect for each other, love of their country.  They survived horrific unmentionable incidents, catastrophes.  They returned to the  USA, scorned, hated by the citizenry of this country! 

I participated in the opening ceremony on Friday morning in Howard County, Indiana.  I, along with many, many people helped carry the hugest flag that I have ever seen to be raised.  As I watched it go up, I squinted in the sun and asked my Grandfather, if in fact, I was American after all. (My grandfather, an immigrant from Italy, said that as his boat came into the harbor in NY/NJ, the first thing that the new people to the country saw was the Statue of Liberty.  He said the people cried in relief and joy.  He learned to read, write, speak English.  He wanted to be American.  As a matter of fact, so much so, that in the WWI era, he could have served in either the Italian Army or American, since the two countries were allies.  He chose American.  He was never drafted, but he stood prepared to support, fight AMERICAN) So, Grandpa, there I was.  My father participated in WWII. As did the other "warriors", he received the " WWII Victory Medal".  My host gave me a replica of that medal..a pin, of which I can be proud.

My family's, ultimately my, military history is, shall we say, interesting.  One uncle was a conscientious objecter and was imprisioned during WWII.  Another, refused to carry a weapon, but would support the troops and country in WWII and worked State side to participate. His son, my cousin, refused to go to VietNam, burned his draft card at the time that:

I dated a West Point Cadet for years.  I love the military installation, the officers (many of you may not share enthusiasm for those men), the corps. Try walking in the West Village of Manhattan with a Cadet in Uniform in the late 60's...go ahead!  My father would drive me to West Point for various functions and after he defrosted (hockey game, coldest day of his life, I understand) we would discuss the history, the pagentry, tradition of West Point, the Army, etc.   One Christmas, I gave my Dad, who by the way, during WWII guarded prisoners, a WWII Army helmet!

  I, in college, wore apple seeds, had hair to my waist, "grooved", made love, not war.  I was as much of a "Flower Child" as my family would permit...Actually, not so much. I did that while my cousin Ron (mentioned in my book) was in the Air Force in Cambodia and Viet Nam.

I, now, am the Secretary of the Ladies Auxiliary of VFW Post 9927.

During the Reunion, in Kokomo, Sammy Davis Jr (no, readers...Caucasian - Medal of Honor awardee) came in by helicopter, to speak.  The assembly was told to back up for the turbulance of the helicopter as he landed.  That made for a bad hair day, but, for once in my life, this was NOT ABOUT ME!  The guest of honor mounted the stage, as the helicopter began to take off.  I crept up to the helicopter in order to get a great picture for my Dad.  I became a human cannon ball! I was blown back into the crowd!  Very strong and gracious veterans, after laughing their you know whats off, picked me up, shook me out, and here I am!  A little battered, but, WOW!

I must say, that I don't understand the "Come on people now, love one another, everybody get together and love one another, right now!" people.  I don't understand those who wore granny glasses, HAIR, and just loved everyone!  I don't want to kill, I don't want my children, grandchildren to kill.  I get that!  I respected my family members decisions, accepted them, loved my cousin, his Dad, my uncle.  But, the peace, love hippies, for lack of another word, contradict the "love" aspect of their message!  When these men came home, though it was not a popular  military action, many of the Love Generation, Hippies shouted, spitted, hated, demonstrated against the individuals.  If the country respected the "hippies" and those who did not serve, why didn't the men who did, at least be treated with some respect?  Hate the sin, not the sinner!  I just never understood the contradiction. Maybe it's me. 

My point?  Thank you for the invitation to share this experience.  Thank you Rodney, Dennis, Rick, Brian, Tom, Rose, Sue, Sandy, Vicki. Thank you all of those who survived and attended the Reunion.  Thank you to those who didn't.  Thank God for bringing us together and shame on You for pain is still endured!

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