Today we celebrate Veteran’s Day.
Not all memories are good for families that served. Some are sad, some are joyful, some are tales of survival.
I thought in honor of Veteran’s Day, I’d share my memories of…
A different time…
At 18, I landed my first summer job that didn’t involve aprons and menus. I needed the money to pay for my wedding and typing eight to ten hours in the new computer room at the carpet mill would get me closer to my goal. I wasn’t keen on working swing shifts, but it beat waiting tables and paid a heck of a lot more. The first mill in our parts to have a computer room gave me a little more respect around the house and about time too as far as I was concerned. At least something I’d taken in high school was useful in getting me out of our packed house.
It was a scary time. Buses arrived each week, friends climbed on board. Soon my love joined other young men bound for a world far from our one-light town. I cried and clutched his hand through the bus window. Our wedding now postponed by war.
Months passed like a turtle crossing a road. I planned and prayed. Planned for my wedding and a new life far from home.
But now, he was in uniform on the other side of the world in a bad place. His phone calls were not really phone calls so much as radio calls. Short wave radio operators all over the world hopscotched his rare calls to me, listening in so they would know when to hit relay switches. Awkward pauses, and empty minutes until I would hear his voice. Every word spoken was monitored and time limited. His letters, few and far between.
While he dodged bullets, I worked, planned, dreamed and waited for our new life to begin.
Home safe a year later, we were married in 1967. No dress blues, instead he wore a tux for the ceremony. Orders were to wear civilian clothes when on leave. Wearing his uniform was dangerous. Yes, even in the States.
Three weeks after the wedding, we loaded a small Uhaul trailer, and with ten dollars in our pockets, we arrived at our new home, at base a thousand miles from family.
We were fearless, and nothing seemed impossible, not after all he’d endured. It was 1968 and like so many of my generation, we started our family in a small apartment in a military town. My husband finished out his service without returning to harm’s way. We were a couple of the lucky ones. Not everyone was as lucky.
To all those who served, thank you.
Do you have memories of a different time?
A different war?
I’d love to hear from you, let me know how you’re doing! Leave a comment or click the “write me” tab or look for me on Twitter @jeancogdell, Facebook at jean.cogdell and Amazon.com, stop by and say hey! The lights are on, and I’m waiting.
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