That handsome young man above is me, though it’s hard to believe. I have never been that good looking. I think someone is punking me.
Tuesday will be Veteran’s Day, and I will be entitled to a free breakfast at IHop. I went in Sunday just to confirm. Also to have a nice pancake.
I joined the U.S. Air Force in 1974, while the Vietnam War was still being fought. Actually, a cease fire had been declared, but the US was still over there. In fact, as a radio operator, I missed being assigned to a spot in Vietnam by two weeks. Instead, they sent me to Turkey.
But nonetheless, since I joined during hostilities, I am called a “Vietnam Era Veteran.” Whenever I mention that, I make sure I add “Era” in there so that the guys who went into combat in that unfortunate conflict don’t think I’m trying to be someone I’m not. The addition of that little word preserves my honor and respects those who can call themselves a “Vietnam Veteran.”
My military service was distinctly unromantic. I worked in a small building with no windows and one door, which door was guarded by Security Policemen. I worked long hours at a WWII radio, calibrating and spinning and grinning to listen to various signals. That’s pretty much all I can tell you about my service. Fifty years later, and it’s still classified.
I also, briefly, worked as a Security Policeman. The bases in Turkey had their operations shut down when the Congress unwisely suspended aid to Turkey in 1975 over the Cypress incident. I was thrown out of work, so the US Air Force retrained me as a Security Police Augmentee. This meant I could guard the half-mile FLR-9 antenna in the snow and rain, ride along with the real cops on patrol, and generally make a nuisance of myself. The real cops always worried one of us augmentees might accidentally shoot off the M-16s we were handed at the beginning of the shift.
I served four years in the military, most of it overseas in Turkey and Italy. I suffered hearing loss due to my job, which makes me a 10% disabled Veteran. I get $150 per month for that disability.
But I am glad I served. So many men of my generation, when hearing that I was in the military at that time, will wistfully say, “I could have been in, too.” My response is always “Nothing stopped you, Buddy. They took almost anybody who would volunteer.”
Which is the sum of my military “glory.” When called, I answered even though most others did not. I stood watch while you slept. I guarded that damned antenna as if it meant something. And I guess it did.
Happy Veteran’s Day, Brothers.
Mark Bruce, Writer 