Memorial Day

It wasn't love of country or a call to arms that caused to to enlist in the US Navy in 1968, a year this country was bogged down in Vietnam. The Vietnamese War was a time that changed America while giving birth to the drug culture. No, my enlistment was the result of a disagreement with my father. My girlfriend at the time was a Texas beauty from a small town named Yokum near the Mexican border who was Catholic. I doubt that the problems this relationship caused could have been worse if one of us had been of a different race or if we had been of the same sex. Her family was just as opposed to us being together as was my family--perhaps more so.

It wasn't as if my parents would have tried to keep us apart even though they did make their displeasure known. What brought about the rift with my dad was my refusal to attend the same church we had gone to that Sunday morning. It seemed the pastor there believed the Pope was the Anti-Christ and shared that view in that mornings sermon. That view didn't set well with Sandra and embarrassed me.

I was given the ultimatum to drop out of school and come home right then or I would be drafted. It was only a few weeks later when I received a latter instructing me to report for duty on December 30. 1968. The draft ended two days later. Rather that go into the Army, I "volunteered" for the Navy, a fact constantly thrown into my face whenever I objected to some action of my "superiors".

I was good at my job and quickly rose in rank to an E-5 but I was never military. I once held hands with another sailor and skipped down the middle of the hanger bay while aboard the USS Midway (A WWII aircraft carrier, USS 41), argued with an officer about whether being under a covered walkway was inside or outside, called for a meeting to protest treatment of minorities in my division aboard ship, was hauled before a commission of the Admiral, the Captain, and six other officers to determine if I was a subversive for requesting additional work, and earned more awards for my work that I ever could figure out how to arrange the medals for.

I hated being herded about like cattle to the slaughter, being stuck in a system that was more evil than those of the governments we were opposing, and watching as others were mistreated for the enjoyment of others.

I hated even more the day the plane crashed on board the ship killing some friends of mine and injuring scores of others. I'm sure their experience in the military was far different than mine, there reasons for joining more noble, and the satisfaction of their job much greater than mine, but I'm also positive they didn't want to die.

Vietnam was a difficult war, not only because America didn't fight to win but because of the attitude of the American people. I can't say if my friends joined the service because they were drafted, because they volunteered to avoid the Army, or because they believed in American, or just because they were not cowards who fled to Canada, but I do know they were good men with lives and hopes and dreams and plans that did not include dieing that day.

Each one of us had our own reasons for being there. Decisions that seemed the right ones at the moment or were forced upon us without us having a viable alternative. but it was our own decsion to be where we were on that fateful day. We all did our jobs and did them the best we could. There were no slackers for each of us knew that every job was important and ever detail needed to be attended to, for the lives of many, including our own, depended on every thing being done right. It didn't matter if it was flying the jet, frying the eggs, or cleaning the bathroom, we had to keep each other safe and healthy for our own survival.

Were the men who died heroes or in anyway special? No, not among their peers for they were all just doing their job. In many ways. all men and women in the service are heroes and special, and especially those who served in Vietnam because it took a lot of guts to volunteer for such an unpopular war and how soldiers and sailors were treated by the american public.

For those who died, I hope it was painless and quick and for those who survived, thanks, for neither will ever be forgotten.

That day, with the flight deck littered with carnage, the ship, with its seven thousand sailors and marines, and all our escorts and supply vessels, were at grave risk. Without our ability to launch a plane in defense we were an easy target for the enemy. Without the dedication and training of the men on board, many more lives could have been lost.

Thanks to all service men and women in every branch of service, in peace and in war, for what you do and for what you risk.