THE US REPORT

Happy Veterans Day to those who serve and who have served.As children, my brother and I had the run of a big old family home with a large front porch—it wasn’t fancy but it was solid. Families were larger then and as a result of both our parents' numerous brothers and sisters, we enjoyed a great deal of attention. In sharp contrast to today, we spent a lot of time with the men in our family. I suspect they wanted to get us out from underfoot when the women were canning, quilting or taking care of other domestic business. We children were only too happy to oblige. If you've ever snapped peas or removed the strings from beans, you'll know what I mean.

My uncle A. P. served in World War II. He was one of the most remarkable men I've ever known.Two of my uncles served in World War II, and I was very close to one of them. We called him by his initials ‘A.P.’ Many of his friends called him ‘Charger,’ because of his tactics as a football player in high school. He had fought in France but he talked very little about it. I remember asking him one day when I was about 7 or 8 years old if he ever killed any Germans. He’d always been a very direct man, but that time, he simply gave me a pained look and changed the subject. He owned his own business and I grew up riding around in his service truck, meeting his customers and suppliers. My uncle never had children of his own, so he gave my brother and me generous amounts of his time. We learned the value of knowing how to fix things, of saving a dollar but being generous at the same time. He was a remarkable man. My other uncle also served overseas. When he returned he went to medical school and became a highly respected doctor in his community.

Another veteran I was close to was my great uncle—he fought in World War I. I still have his i.d. tags and a letter he wrote to my grandmother. He took my brother and me fishing, and on long hot summer days, he made snow cones for us with an antique ice scraper.

My mother’s next to youngest brother also went by his initials—this was pretty common at the time. L.V. wasn’t that much older than we were—6 or 7 years. He played the guitar for us and built all sorts of things—even a small car. He was a genius at carpentry, and by the time he was an adult, he made beautiful furniture. I remember the day we took him to Ft. Jackson to report for duty. My grandmother cried all the way home because Vietnam was becoming a far more complicated war at the time. My uncle survived that war, but he returned home from the last tour with injuries. He was career Army, retiring only when his physical ailments required him to do so.

One veteran who has had a serious impact on my adult outlook in life is my father-in-law, James H. Day. He served in the Korean War. He was career U.S. Army, and he taught his only son to fish, fix things and shoot a gun. He also taught him the importance of a commitment to family and friends. When I was younger, my mother-in-law regaled us with stories about traveling to distant places with her small children, of learning to cope in a country where she could not speak the language, of seeing exotic places a girl from a small town in Georgia had only dreamed about when she was young.

My father-in-law James Day served in the Korean War, and devoted his career to the U.S. Army. My father-in-law told us stories about the time he was lost behind enemy lines and wounded, about how cold his feet would get in Korea and about how the first time his toddler son saw him, he ran because he had no idea who this man was even if he did say, “I’m your father.”

It seemed appropriate I would marry a veteran. My husband served in the Army, and he shared many stories of his experiences with our daughters as they grew up. He does not like for me to write about him, but I will say he distinguished himself and was an expert in marksmanship. He would go on to win many trophies as a civilian in shooting competitions. Rather than the typical over and under shotgun many competitors used, my husband used a pump. He’s often said, in so many words, the education he got in the military was more valuable than any other.

There are veterans in my ancient family history as well. A written account of my maternal grandmother’s family tells the story of an ancestor who served in the Colonial Armies during the Revolution. The records of the Bureau of Pensions at the Dept. of the Interior show that he was granted a pension of $26.66 per annum years after America gained her independence.

As I grew up, I was fortunate to have the attention of good men who were willing to take a spirited girl off the women’s hands. Their generosity probably saved me many a switching—I simply wasn’t interested in girlish things. If I could be outside, that’s exactly what I preferred.

From the veterans in my life I learned honor, tenacity, patience and compassion. Every one of them—those I’ve mentioned here and others I haven’t—went off to war ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. For some, the experiences were brutal and wearisome. There was always concern for the people they loved back home. At the least, their careers and lives were interrupted and none knew for exactly how long.

I never heard a single one of them complain. They were certainly America’s heroes, but for a Southern girl who liked to, as my grandmother often said, “upset the apple cart,” they were and are family heroes as well. When a family has a military tradition, there’s a near-tactile connection to others who serve, perhaps because we’re aware of what is required not only from the soldier but also from the family. And we learn a simple truth.

Politicians may most often get the spotlight and the praise, but what keeps this country secure and what keeps us a free people can be largely attrituted to those who serve in our military. They are the truly great Americans, and on this special day we pay them homage.

Happy Veterans Day to those who are serving and who have served. We're honored to be among you. --Kay B. Day