I had the pleasure yesterday of meeting two gentlemen, one who was one of the first Marines on Iwo Jima, and the other of whom was a soldier who was part of the Normandy landing and who, after a criss-cross journey through Europe, landed in the Arden on January 1, 1945. The Iwo Jima vet had one purple heart, for a machine gun shot to his head; the Europe vet had two purple hearts, one for mortar injuries, and one (which landed him in the hospital for eight months), for stepping on the WWII equivalent of an anti-personnel mine. I was so honored to shake their hands and thank them for their contributions to America’s (and the world’s) continued freedom. They too were proud of the contributions and, despite their injuries, both have lived happy, fulfilled lives, that have seen them into their high 80s. To them I say, as they say in Yiddish, may you live to 120.
I was reminded of this when Phibian directed me to a blog by JR Salzman (Lumberjack in a Desert), who was the victim of an IED and who is now recovering in Walter Reed Hospital. In discussing his injuries, how he received them, and the recovery process he’s now going through, Salzman has this to say:
Please remember this when you think about freedom. This isn’t a dream, this isn’t some fictional story about patriotism, this isn’t some story I’m writing to be a hero. This is my life here at Walter Reed. I am the true cost of freedom. Welcome to my life.
I’d like him to know that, just as 60 years after the fact I’m honored to shake the hands of two men who were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for American freedom, so too would I be honored to shake Salzman’s hand. My appreciation for his effort will not restore his arm, remove the memories, or erase the pain he’s suffered, but I hope he realizes that there are many of us out here with long memories who do understand the price of freedom and are inordinately grateful to those who are willing pay it for the greater good of all of us. I just wish that these men and women lived in a time like the 1940s, when the vast American population recognized the necessity of their sacrifice, rather than in the 21st Century, when half the population manages the cognitive dissonance balancing act of supporting the troops while doing everything they can to undermine the troops’ goals and purpose.
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I encourage all your readers to do something the next time they see a uniformed soldier in an airport, on the street, or someone wearing a veteran’s insignia: Approach them, shake their hand, and if you can get past the lump in your throat, simply thank them for their service. My dad was a glider pilot who landed in Normandy on D-day. Although it was the single most significant experience of his life, he didn’t like to speak of it and we only learned of the whole story through reading letters that were found following my mother’s passing. Thank you, Dad.
The medical technology of the 21st century makes up the difference, one way or another.
Nostalgia is never an accurate view of the past, because usually it concentrates on the positives and refuses the negatives.
As Neo says. We cannot change the past. and I say we cannot live backwards, only forwards.
A side interest of note here concerning the IED
“I just wish that these men and women lived in a time like the 1940s, when the vast American population recognized the necessity of their sacrifice, rather than in the 21st Century, when half the population manages the cognitive dissonance balancing act of supporting the troops while doing everything they can to undermine the troops’ goals and purpose.”
It would help if the government didn’t keep changing the goalposts.