I grew up in the military. My dad served as an officer in the Air Force for 21 years. His assignments moved us all around the country and to several places around the world. My grandpa served as an enlisted man in the Air Force for 24 years. My grandpa’s uncles served in World War II, and his brother Royce Adams, died in a jeep accident in Vietnam. My husband comes from a military family as well. His dad and both of his grandpas served in the U.S. Navy.
My parents taught me to love the men and women who serve in our military, especially those who have served in wars. I will always appreciate the men and women who have fought for our country, those who are serving now and those who have served in the past. I know that we owe many of our comforts and blessings to these individuals. They deserve to be honored in every way.
I love the memorials around D.C. that pay respect to our men and women who have served in war. There is a feeling around these memorials that is hard to convey – but I feel respect, gratitude, pain, suffering, reverence, and humility all wrapped into one. Maybe these feelings come from the messages and symbols that decorate the memorials. Maybe they come from the people who visit them, those who leave memorial messages and flowers, those who stop in silence and bow their head. Maybe these feelings simply come from what they represent: the men and women who fought and died in war for our country, and as the World II Memorial website states, “the spirit, sacrifice, and commitment of the United States.”
Arlington Cemetery
I saw this cemetery every day on my commute home while I lived in D.C. I would sit on the metro train and look out the window, and through the tree branches that lined the memorial, I would catch a glimpse of the white headstones lined up neatly row after row. Often, when my husband and I were driving in our car past Arlington Cemetery, Trace Adkins’ “Arlington” would start playing on my husband's iPod. We would visit every Memorial Day.
Vietnam Memorial
My Grandpa Adams served in Guam during TDY for six months as a branch chief repairing and refueling B-52s and tankers flying over to Vietnam. Most of the experiences he talked about related to improving efficiency and the morale of the people in his group. His brother Royce died in a jeep accident while serving in the war.
This is my great uncle's name on the Vietnam Memorial. I didn't know him. All I know is that he had three children and my grandpa loved him and was deeply affected by his death. I’ve visited this memorial many times. One time I was looking for my uncle’s name, but I was having trouble finding it. I knew my dad knew exactly where it was, so I called him on my cell phone. Within a few seconds, a lady started shouting at me, “Get off that phone! Don’t you know that this sacred ground!” “Yes, I know this is sacred ground,” I said, trying not to get too emotional. “My dad’s on the phone and he’s helping me find my Uncle Royce who died in this war.” And then she stammered away. Sheesh, lady… I was talking quietly.
My husband's Grandpa Jones served as a Navy pilot during the Vietnam War. He described a few of his flight missions and talked about other pilots who didn't come back. My heart breaks thinking about it because Grandma Jones knew women who lost their husbands, and she too would wonder if her own husband would come back.
Grandpa Jones had a lot of interesting stories about living on the aircraft carrier. One that stands out was the time a huge fire broke out on the ship. The weather was so bad that they had to cancel the night flights, and they had to take off the magnesium flares that they used to light up the countryside. When they were storing them in the flare locker, one of them ignited. About 38 people died of smoke inhalation. Grandpa said that later you could see bare footprints on the floor ship. Grandpa’s room melted. Grandpa was on the flight deck sitting on an airplane, and his roommate was just underneath the flight deck at his deck. But Grandpa lost all of his stuff. He said, "I lost everything. In fact, the Navy never did pay me for that, damn them. They still owe me a lot of money."
Korean War Memorial
The Forgotten War is a war I didn’t learn about until college, unfortunately. I was working as a research assistant for a professor who was studying how Korean War Veterans share their experiences over the Internet. I spent several hours copying and pasting notes posted by veterans, and then categorizing their comments. Ever since, I’ve been interested in what happened in the war, and have been learning more about it.
My husband’s Grandpa Watson served on the General J.C. Breckenridge, a troop transport that went back to Hungnam and Wonson to pick up Marines. In a recent interview we did with my husband’s grandpa, he said that they made about three or four trips back and forth either to hospital ships or to Pusan. He said, “A lot of the Marines were frozen, tired, and hungry – in pretty sad shape.”
Well, all of these years later, my husband’s grandpa moved into a Veteran’s Home in California. He was waiting in one of the rooms for a blood test and he saw a man come in with a cap that said “Korean Combat Veteran.” My grandpa asked, “So you a Marine? Are you one of the chosen few?” “Yes” he said. And so my grandpa told him how he was on the General J.C. Breckenridge, and how they picked up a lot of Marines off that beach. The Marine said, “I’ve been waiting for over 50 years to thank somebody from the Breckenridge for saving our lives. “ Then he got up and gave him a big hug and said, “God bless the U.S. Navy.”
World War II Memorial
This is one of the most beautiful memorials on the mall. It shows the enormity of the war, how it spanned the Atlantic and the Pacific, how it affected every state in our country. Here’s a picture of it in the day.
Here's me and my husband at the memorial:
Here’s a picture of it at night:
One of my favorite messages from the World War II Memorial. (I’m pretty sure it came from there.)
(Addition: I'm writing this several months after the original post, on June 1, 2010. I added a few things in this post about my Uncle Royce who I didn't know. I also want to include here a story my husband told me several years ago about his dad who was a captain in the U.S. Navy. Ben was very young at the time so he didn't know all of the details, but his family was attending a World War II memorial service in France. Ben's dad was in uniform. What made a big impression on my husband was that a Frenchman who lived through the war came up to Ben's dad and poured out his gratitude for the U.S. military. I too look at the men and women in uniform today, and for me they represent of all of the good of the U.S. military.
Thank you to all of our veterans and their families. My thoughts and gratitude are with you this day and always.)
Thank you, Veterans.
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