When Veteran’s Day comes around, I get uneasy and feel like a poseur. No, I’m not one of those people who get caught lying about their service, or worse, steal the identity of true vets. I did serve. The picture is proof that I at least got in the door. No, I feel guilty because I really didn’t do anything warriorlike. Other than the aggravation of a few 12-hour shifts during mobility exercises and the low pay, the Air Force did me a lot of good. My husband and children agree. 😉
I was never deployed. My orders were to basic training at Lackland AFB, Texas. On to technical training at Sheppard AFB, Texas. Then to Mountain Home AFB, Idaho for my permanent duty station. (366 TAC Fighter Wing working on F-111s.)
My husband did go to South Korea for 30 days in August of 1976. I was just out of high school and missed the tree chopping incident in the DMZ. By the following August I was schlepping a tool box on the flight line, learning the ins and outs of the “real” Air Force. And that’s where I stayed.
For a lot of years I felt very guilty for being a veteran who never made much of a contribution. Right now I am writing this and listening to a PBS special about Honor Flights for WWII vets. They and many others served in war, saw battle, and perhaps sacrificed limbs and mental health. I did none of those.
Then, one day I realized that the military is a gargantuan Rube Goldberg system that has to run continually in order to fulfill the mission of national defense. If nothing else, I kept the mechanism running and well-oiled, just in case.
My service to this country is something I will never regret.
Thank you to those who have served.
(Sorry for the impromptu hiatus from Wentworth Wednesday. Freddy will be back next week!)