The World According to Squed

If you asked me on any given day if I knew any vets I might instinctively say no, then I would remember - you bet I do. It is not a part of my everyday thinking, but really we are surrounded every day by vets - how many have you known over the years?

My grandfather whose service I didn't really understand until the last year or so, and my grandmother's service following him all around the country during WWII. Thank God the war ended as he was about to be sent to the Pacific.

Then there is his brother, the only great uncle I really have known, he did go to the Pacific. I was once told he never talked about it, so you can imagine my surprise when one night after dinner he just started talking - like he was telling me about that afternoon's football game - horrible things, I won't retell on a blog most particularly because they are not my stories.

Then there is the man from church where I grew up. He lost a leg in Vietnam. No one ever talked about it.

The principle at my elementary school that also fought in Vietnam, he brought a family over and was their sponsor to get citizenship. They were the only Asian family I ever knew growing up in suburban St. Louis in the 80s. But really no one ever talked about any of that either.

A good friend from my brief time in LA, her father flew helicopters in Vietnam, its about all she knows, he never talked about it either. There was just this carved chest in the corner of the living room - all the outward evidence this happy man ever saw the horror of war.

There is the friend we had in our days in DC, he had amazing stories about life in the jungles of Central American in the 80s. He would speak mater of factly that he served in Desert Storm, but there were no stories he was telling there.

The friend from work in LA whose one woman show about life in the military would blow your mind. She works tirelessly for the anti-war movement. I wonder do women talk about their service more then men? An interesting item to look into as so many of our people come home, needing very badly to talk through what they have experienced.

And then there is my cousin. To see the little boy I used to know in a Marine uniform is a sight to behold I can tell you. His mother took up a collection to buy him body armour back when the military wasn't providing it yet. I don't get to see him much, but I don't think I would be able to pry stories out of him with a crowbar. Not his way.

There is a great article today by the daughter of a man that served in Europe, she says she thinks the silence was about her father protecting her from what he experienced. Perhaps self protection and protection of their loved ones is exactly what it is about - it seems to be the nature of those that serve.

And yet I wonder, if they all came home this time and started telling us what they saw and did and lived through, would we ever go to war again?

Look around... how many vets do you actually know?