You learn some things when you’re the Blue Star father of a three-tour war veteran with the United States Army.
You learn a lot of acronyms. You gotta know the code to understand the stories, and there are acronyms for everything in the military.
And you get to meet their battle buddies and notice the bonds they have with each other. Bonds built because of their days and nights together spent in a place they never ever dreamed they’d ever be on the planet. Let alone with the same people and for the same purpose.
War.
You just listen, and you learn, but you never waste a second trying to imagine being there because combat is incomparable to the convenience most Americans enjoy on the daily. That’s not meant to be critical of the common citizen, though, but instead a compliment to our veterans because it’s the lifestyle they have protected for generations. They followed orders, trusted the chain of command, and tried their best to sleep well in the middle of hell so they could dream of heading home someday.
They saw it, felt it, heard it, smelled it, and they did it. War. In the name of freedom. And it changed them. Down to their DNA. For good, too. People call it PTSD. And yes, it is post-traumatic stress, and often it’s caused by the simplest realities of living free in America. The way of life they defended. For you. While living in a land far from here, where living scared became their new normal because they could meet their end at the drop of a bomb or during a cruise down the street.
You learn some things when you’re the Blue Star father of a three-tour war veteran with the United States Army, or if you’re the daughter or son or grandchild or a friend lucky enough to hear about their horror in the happiest of terms they’ll use these days. That’s because – if they will talk about it at all – they are still protecting us. Holding it in. Keeping us safe. Enduring even more.
And you learn some stars turn gold because far too many men and women never came home.
So, when you thank them on this Veterans Day, be appreciative that you don’t really know what you’re thanking them for except for your freedom.
