The meaning of this holiday changed for me in 1989, when I put on the uniform for the first time. It didn’t magically morph back to the earlier, less-informed, view when I took that uniform off for the last time in 2001, though.
When I heard about the Beirut Marine barracks bombing as a kid, it was a remote incident. It didn’t really mean much to me. When I hear about that sort of thing now, I wonder if I knew any of them.
In March, one of the soldiers that I helped train was killed in a training accident. The NSA has a wall of remembrance for people that were killed and who can’t be acknowledged because of the classified nature of their missions. One of my friends just got back from a counter-terrorist “training” mission that involved a lot of live ammo and people who weren’t training aids. That’s what I’m reminded of on Veteran’s Day now.
The LJ crowd tends to the young; the young are usually very liberal and anti-war. Be anti-war all you want, but support the men and women who volunteer to step in front of a bullet for you. To do any less would be churlish.
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