I grew up in a time when children still played soldiers or Cowboys and Indians outside in the dirt. This was a time when it was something special to grow up to become a man so that you could protect your family. In our home, “I am a veteran” was spoken with great pride. I remember evenings that were spent telling tales of the great or sometimes simple adventures of World War II. As children, we were told of adventures where an uncle, who fought on the front line would be in fox holes with dead soldiers up to his waist while fighting the enemy or of the activities that took place on the ship that my father was on. There would sometimes be simpler evenings when our minds and images would be completely filled with the different places where they had gone while serving our great country. Either way when we were out in public our chests would fill with great pride when people would talk about veterans or “our boys” who had served while keeping those communists and other restrictors out of our land.
I was “with child” when I heard a call for action in the Gulf War, and my heart froze inside my chest. Was our country ready? We had not had a taste of war in many years. So, in what kind of world would my child grow up? Would it be a place where there would be wars and rumor of wars or would it be something that the United States could simply make go away?
Yes, today I know some servicemen that are mature and that are wise on war, and others that seem like they are too young to be that far from home but yet they are not my boy. Yet these soldiers who by their own choosing have given their own personal life up for a while to serve our country is someone else’s son, daughter, husband, wife, or grandchild. Someone else held them and kissed it better when they fell and hurt their knee. Someone else rocked them to sleep when their favorite frog was run over by the lawn mover. Someone else is hurting and crying at night for their soldier. Someone else is lying to rest their hopes and dreams so that America can still feel pride in what they are and so that the rest of us can rest with assurance that our children can have freedom that our forefathers fought so hard to obtain for us.
Yes, the American soldier will always be something special to me whether they are wearing a green, blue, or white uniform. Because a Serviceman or a Veteran to me is a Hero, whether they ever receive a purple heart from the president or not, they are someone who for a while gave their heart up “to become the best that they could be” for people like you and me.
Verlin Collins