I never actually saw this, but the accounts were too prevalent to ignore. Oddly enough, it was one of rock and roll's most outspoken anti-war protesters who started turning things around in this regard; it was Joe McDonald, aka "Country Joe" of Country Joe and the Fish. He'd served in Viet Nam. He knew. As a musician, a pro-GI stand couldn't have been too popular, but he took it anyway. For opening up my eyes, thanks Joe.
But my real respect for those who fought in service to America came from a tour of France I took years later, in 1992. It was on May 7 (I kept copious notes!) that we came to Utah Beach, one of the landing sites of the Normandy invasion of World War II. I was amazed at the landscape, a long, high cliff overlooking a wide I estimated about 100 yards), open beach. How ANYONE survived is beyond me. That the soldiers didn't just stay on their ships and say en masse "STORM THAT BEECH? ARE YOU NUTS?? NO WAY, RAY!!!" is surprising.
Still, they did what they needed to do and it would seem that the world is a better place because of it.
What made the experience even richer for me was that I had the chance to share a bit of it with one Joseph Joseph. That's not a typo. Same first name as last. Anyway, just making conversation, I happened to ask Mr. Joseph what he thought of it all. As it turned out, he had been part of D-Day.
It was no longer just words in a history book or scenes from a movie - it was something that really happened to someone standing next to me. He said that he could only call it fate that he survived. I noted later that I was glad I wasn't with him on that day. If you have the good fortune to go to France, pay it a visit. Nearby is the Normandy American Cemetery.
Now that I'm retired, the 3-day weekend doesn't mean that much to me, but even before, I always try to give thought to the meaning of any holiday that came about. Veteran's Day and Memorial Day are no exception. It's on these days that my thoughts go back to that visit to Normandy.
I also give thought to David Ewing, the older brother of a friend of mine from my old neighborhood who was shot down in Viet Nam.
May we someday learn to treat each other better.
Note: When I first posted this I made reference to returning soldiers having been spat on. A friend sent me an article stating that this was probably an "urban legend". We can only hope. (Shin - 6/4)
I was born in 1951 and graduated high school in 1969 - this was at the height of the Viet Nam War. By this time, the war had become immensely unpopular. Lyndon Johnson chose not to run for re-election because of it. The U. S. was SERIOUSLY divided over it. Patriotism was definitely not seen as a virtue by large numbers of folks.
I was a guitar player even back then, and pretty much all my heroes in this field had come out against the war, the military, and all who supported either. People were burning draft cards, flags, and pictures of whoever happened to be in the White House at the time. By now it was Richard Nixon who had declared the objective of "Peace with honor" (though he seemed to have little idea of how to achieve it).
I was always one to avoid trouble if possible. I never burned my draft card After all, I might have needed it for ID and I certainly didn't want to go to jail unnecessarily. But I never ran out to enlist either. I got and kept my student deferment until the draft lottery went into effect. (If not for an administrative blunder, I'd have exercised the grandfather clause at that point, but that's another story.)
I might have needed it for ID and I certainly didn't want to go to jail unnecessarily. Had I been drafted I'm not sure what I would have done. My mother would have gladly financed a rather extended vacation to Canada. Her mantra on this point was "I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier!" My dad? Hard to say.
I never burned or otherwise showed disrespect to the flag, but I never really understood what all the fuss was about on either side. But I guess symbols stir passions and we were at war, as much with each other as with an enemy half a world away.
