A Day to Remember More than the Fallen

Greg Wilson/Anderson Observer

Today is Memorial Day, a time set aside to honor those soldiers who gave their lives in service to our country.

I was once among those who made a pointed distinction between Memorial Day and Veterans Day, but a couple of friendships changed my mind.

When I was a student at Golden Gate Seminary in Mill Valley, Calif., more than four decades ago, I got to know two of my fellow students who were veterans of the Vietnam War. Both served more than one term in-country, and both were fundamentally changed from their time spent there.

Johnny was a member of the nearly forgotten Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrol. He traveled with two fellow soldiers far from friendly forces in the depths of the jungle for long periods of time, and were an important group whose positive impact far outnumbered their numbers.

Johnny had been home only a few years when he decided to go to seminary. Tall and fair-haired, few would guess he spent two years fighting in the dark jungles of Vietnam. But he was clearly a quiet young man who always looked tired. Little wonder, Johnny could never put together more than an hour or so of sleep at a time, starting awake with the slightest noise, or moving shadow or light. Instead, he walked the campus most of the night, moving quietly up and down the hill that offered a clear vista of San Francisco, which was just across the bay.

I met him my first week on campus while up late working on a paper interrupted by a persistent, gentle rap on my window, which was a little spooky. Mill Valley offers weather that means little need for heating or air conditioning, and few windows had screens. Pulling back the curtain, I saw Johnny, in his old fatigue jacket, standing close enough to step into my room.

“Do you have any nickels or change for a dollar,” he said. “Need it for the machines.” I gave him my nickels and a couple of quarters and soon became one of his regular nightly stops when he saw my light on late at night (which was almost always, I am one who has always kept owl’s hours). We soon began getting breakfast and lunch together, where I got his story. He said he started seminary hoping God would help him get back to more like he was before he was drafted. I never forgot this quiet desperation of a young man who sacrificed something for his country he would likely never get back.

I met Tony at Golden Gate as well. He served three tours in-country. The polar opposite of Johnny, Tony was short, round and loud. He told entertaining stories of his not-so-distance days in Vietnam, including one where he had a suit custom made while on R-and-R in Hong Kong that circled the globe three years before getting to his home address in America (by then he had outgrown the suit). But when talking to him one-on-one, Tony talked more about not being able to adjust when coming home and reenlisting for additional tours of duties which left him, like Johnny, unable to sleep. Night terrors and crying jabs he could not control that popped up randomly, including more than once in class, left him always red-eyed and manic. He also was in seminary because he hoped God would help him recover some of what, in his words, “I left over there.”

Both men would also start dramatically at any loud noise.

Johnny and Tony were not close, neither had many friends. I lost track of both, but hope they found some measure of peace.

Which brings us back to Memorial Day.

Both of these men were drafted and served their country well, but neither came home the same person. This story has played out in untold numbers of those who served in all our nation’s armed conflicts. In more recent years, I met a young veteran of fighting in Iraq who started a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder group in an attempt to recover what he lost in that war. And still others who managed to return from fighting and daily risks of their lives struggle to find sufficient health and mental health care.

So, while we honor those who died in armed conflicts serving our country today, it’s also appropriate to honor and remember the men and women who lost at least part of themselves in combat and both mourn and struggle with this loss.

If you know someone like this, don’t forget to check on them today.