My Veteran View
Veterans Day always seems a little strange to me. Like many of my age, I involuntarily served voluntarily. I know it’s Rah, Rah time for many good-hearted people who really want to celebrate our veterans. That’s good. But, it’s really hard to celebrate the veterans status that came about because of something we did that was dreadfully wrong even though some of what we did was justified.
I was a “Radar O’Reilly” in a finance unit, a job most people would envy. I saw rampant drug use, outrageous racial discrimination, loads of intolerance, and justification for a bad war. I knew people like me who were in service because we had to be; we did our jobs well because that was the best way to be a part of a unit and support our fellow soldiers, not because we approved of what the military was doing.
I’ve often felt that I did more for my country as civilian, career federal employee. Government services has been talked down so much over recent years, that people don’t know what the government does. They also forget that the military is also government, and parts of it are not greatly different than the civilian side. I’m glad the people support our soldiers today; the support could give way to the feelings of the ’70s quickly.
Because I was a good soldier, I got an all expense paid temporary duty (vacation) to tour Berlin as part of a military group. I saw history up close and in detail.
It was an spooky feeling standing in arm’s length of the Berlin Wall looking over the broken glass embedded in its top past the barbed wire and mine field to an East German guard tower with powerful binoculars trained on me as I looked at him through my telephoto camera lens. At my feet were memorial wreaths laid where people escaped East Germany, but never made it to live in the West.
While in uniform I crossed into East Berlin with my military tour group. Aside from the beautiful mall and buildings just past the checkpoint, the rest of the city remained much as it looked after the war. In government buildings we passed, more binoculars watched us looking for one of us to violate anti-photo rules of certain places. The eyes of the citizens told the story of oppression and guarded speech. I realized that they were people not very different than us. Fate had determined their lot, nothing more.
I saw the huge mounds of war rubble. I saw the bullet holes in the building and canal walls. I saw where thousands died horrible deaths in debilitating fear. I saw the monuments to propaganda on both sides as the Cold war continued; the fear was still real.
When the wall came down years later, it was emotional for me. I had been there. It was hard to believe. When I went back in ‘91, only pieces of the wall remained, now covered with political graffiti. Only traces of the wall remain, mostly remnants of the oppressed culture are in the hearts of the people. They have survived. As a Army sergeant in 1971, I can’t say that I did much to help the change. But, like thousands of others, I did my part. It changed my life and my views.
I’m glad to say that I did my job well—I supported my fellow soldiers. But, if I could fix history, I would not have needed to be a soldier and now a veteran. Celebration is a whole bundle of mixed emotions.
