A Moment on Veterans Day

Here we are, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. Everyone has his or her own way of remembering it, I'm sure. For me it means wearing my forty-five year old dog tags complete with C-ration can opener and spending the day trying to miss the "heartfelt" politicians' speeches on TV. We mark this day to honor all our veterans in all our wars, yet somehow my mind will settle on just half a dozen men who made up the crew of a certain 50 foot boat that operated in Chu Lai and Da Nang and other little places, places who's names I can't remember or never knew.

So, wearing my tags and avoiding the speeches, I'll do what many other living vets will do today. I'll wonder. Where are my crew-mates today? What are they doing? Why were we there so long ago? What was it all for? For the ones who are no longer with us, I'll wonder who misses them. Every year at this time I allow myself to ask these questions but I don't spend a lot of time waiting for answers.

Our veterans will be remembered in many grand ways today. The bands' uniforms will sparkle. The speeches will be lofty and eloquent. The ceremonies will be traditional and dramatic. And this is probably as it should be. But I'm going to ask a favor of you. Today only, for a moment only, think about your great-uncle heating a can of beans on the hot manifold of a jeep in Korea. Think about your grandmother pinning a picture of her mother, dad and sister to the underside of the bunk above hers at China Beach. Think about your brother carrying an Iraqi flag in his pack to give you when he gets home. I'm not asking for the day. Let the politicians have the day. I'm just asking you to take time to remember an everyday moment in a veteran's life, and consider all the millions and billions of these moments that have made up our military history.

I'm glad that I was able to contribute a few of these moments myself. Today, I dedicate them to you.

Tommy Jensen