In Defense of Those who Defend Us

 My brother had to go into a very unpopular war, which he didn't want to join. So, he went as a conscientious objector. This put him in the position of medic without any protection. He was lost in the TET offensive. You know, I've heard of others that went to wars they didn't agree with, also. They figured if they didn't, someone else would have to go in their place.

Sure I was postwar. In fact, the odds of even being born were doubtful, as my dad was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked, and he had to become a graves registration officer. But I could still understand being part of a military family. My toy chest was pink and blue, but it was a small ammunition chest. We packed a lot of stuff into large ammunition chests. "The 20th Century" was almost required TV watching. I heard many of stories about our family's stay in Europe, rebuilding. I was there, also, but too small to remember.

Our dad took us to Washington D.C., so we could appreciate the workings of our government. Even though I was young, I will never forget the experience.

The only person wearing a military uniform in our family picture, other than our dad, was the brother who had to wear it later. I'd send probably silly letters from my college just to know I was thinking about him. But then, I got envelopes with purple fingers on them in the mail: Return to Sender. I'd show my theater friend, and she and I both looked concerned.

Two men, a counselor and a pastor, were waiting to talk to me, to bring me upstairs to tell me he was MIA. I talked to my dad on the pay phone about it, and when they found out my brother was gone, I told my hometown friend, and a tear streamed down her face. Later, she took my dad aside, and they walked off alone to talk. I think I know what she shared with him.

My husband's education was interrupted to serve in the Navy. He got the GI Bill, and was able to go to broadcasting school as a result, a program I've read certain right wing government people don't want to keep in place. I've become even prouder of his service as a result of the latest news report.

I will add a bit to my story of the Viet Nam soldier who didn't come home, my brother, Kendall; I read a letter from him today that had been sent me. This time, the print was very small, and I had to use a magnifying glass.

Of course, it was brotherly advice about NOT, going into the theatre, which I did, but I woke up and thought maybe, he was right. And I became a drama teacher, instead, which ended up being more fulfilling.

I finally recognized the letter. I would say, if you have someone far away in the service, make sure you write to them...a lot. He seemed to want me to keep writing. I had to stop for a minute when he told me what he'd do "when he returned". But I remembered I kept writing...until the letters came back.