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Veterans Day 2004: People do remember

By RANDY GADDO

I had the occasion to experience three settings this Veterans Day that give me hope for the future and appreciation for the American people.

First a friend, Earl Spell, invited me to a Veterans Day program he started and maintains at his Georgia Power repair shop. It was a simple but meaningful event.

More than half of the 120 or so employees in the shop are veterans. They were nearly all there to hear the speaker, the 80-year-old father of one of the managers there.

This is a man who was drafted into the Army’s airborne program in WWII and who jumped in on the first day of D-Day. He told an amusing story about how he found the only tree line within three miles of the coastline and landed in it. When he cut himself out of the harness he dropped 30 feet and popped his hip out of joint. He had to be shipped back to England, but rejoined the war after a brief recovery period.

He didn’t get a Purple Heart; said he didn’t deserve it. “There were lots of men who deserved it, but not me,” he said modestly. There are those in high places who could learn from this veteran.

Later that evening, I had the opportunity to attend the Fayette County Kiwanis meeting to hear an 86-year-old veteran tell about his experiences flying his WWII aircraft over the Himalayan mountains — the “hump” as they called it — taking gasoline to friendly forces in action.

Again, heroic actions spoken of in modest tones by modest hero. Again, the thought that there are political figures who should follow this example.

But the best experience was on Friday, when I went to Huddleston Elementary to attend what has become for me my favorite Veterans Day event.

There, I sat with among veterans from many eras, from WWII to Beirut, Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom. And there were hundreds of children, seated in neat little battalion formations throughout the school gym, as rain had forced the usual outdoor event indoors.

Some veterans were in plain clothes, some wore the VFW or American Legion colors, some were in “cammies,” or “BDUs” as the Army calls their field uniform.

I wore my Marine Corps officer dress blues. Last year, I attended and failed to put on the uniform, and my son, Alex, let me know of his disappointment. This year, I wasn’t going to disappoint him.

As long as he’s proud to say, “That’s my dad,” I’ll keep putting it on. The dress blues are a splendid diet incentive; you can’t let your weight slip even a couple of pounds or breathing is not an option. I was pleased to see that breathing was quite easy.

My wife and I received a personal escort by a sweet little girl through the school halls and on to the veterans seating area. One of the adult organizers saw the uniform and said, with a wink, “My dad was a Marine. The front row is reserved for Marines and their families,” and promptly led us to the front row. “I just love that uniform,” she said as she walked away.

As we sat there and I searched the sea of kids for Alex, my wife, Ellen, said, “That little boy wants to wave to you.” I followed her gaze and there’s a little guy, big smile on his face and a look in his eye that made me think someday he might benefit from this day. I waved and he waved back, then he proudly told his buddy what he’d just done.

A veteran sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I think you have a fan over there too.” Following his point, I saw a Boy Scout across the room, at attention, holding a pretty darned good salute and looking at me in anticipation. I saluted back and he dropped his hand with a smile of satisfaction.

Then I found Alex in the crowd, watching me, and I could see from the look on his face that he was taking it all in. His classmates were jostling him and whispering to him, but he held my gaze long enough to say, “Thanks, dad.” I was then sure putting the uniform on was the right thing to do.

I had promised myself I wasn’t going to get misty-eyed like I did last year, blaming the chilly wind then. I did OK through the presentation of the colors and the national anthem, led by a student, Allison Adams. I even held it together through the group’s singing of “Proud to Be An American.”

But when the third grade class sang “American Tears,” well, I guess some dust got in my eyes because the tearing mechanism kicked in. No chilly wind to blame this time.

Mr. Tatum, the school counselor, who not so long ago returned from active Army duty in Iraq, had to follow that. I didn’t envy him. He apparently got into the same dust field as I did, because I could see his eyes watering a bit.

Afterwards, I shook his hand and told him he was a better man than I to have gotten though his comments without blubbering like a baby, which I’m pretty certain I would have. He said it took everything he had to hold it together.

As we left the gymnasium, I would see shy kids stealing glances at the uniform. It suddenly struck me how important it is to wear that uniform from time to time.

It represents something much bigger than any individual. I think for children, and maybe adults as well, it represents safety, security, maybe freedom. It’s more than something done long ago, it’s part of our history, individually as well as nationally.

And in the current war on terrorism, I think it shows how far the American people are willing to go to protect our way of life from all invaders, foreign and domestic. We’ve beaten insurmountable odds in the past and we’ll do it in the present and in the future.

So, I would challenge all veterans to plan on going to a Veterans Day event next year, and wear your uniform. If you don’t fit into your uniform, you have a year to either tailor the uniform to your present body style, or change your body style to fit back into the uniform.

Start now. It will do you good, and will be good for the nation as well.

[Randy Gaddo is a retired Marine and is currently the director of leisure services, Peachtree City.]