What Does it Mean to be a Veteran?

I posted this to Facebook four years ago, shortly before my last flight in the Army, and it popped up in my “Memories” today. I am reposting with the commentary from the post as they are words from folks with whom I have proudly served as their contributions illustrate the bonds between former strangers turned lifelong friends – Veterans.

What does it mean to me to be a Veteran?

A lot of things…

…funny stories involving entirely too many random objects – cocoa beverage powder and someone’s tighty whiteys…

…miles covered for the sake of a concert with the possibility of being recalled on the way there…

…conversations about the most unrelated topics given the mode of transport…
…knowing more about someone than their spouse does…

…trusting someone more than you ever thought was possible while at the same time, not really liking that person all that well…

…being willing to beat the ever lovin’ life out of someone for insulting a friend’s wife…

…not seeing someone for years and picking right back up as if it were only a few weeks since you last saw them…

…feeling that sick dread when the news reports that “another UH-60 accident in…”

…having more stories about work than anything else…

…knowing the true value of having a solid “NCO Network”…

…inside jokes…

…knowing how to keep someone from embarrassing themselves too much – and knowing where to draw the line…

…shared tears and anger…

…national pride…

…Inter-service “rivalries” that are really don’t mean much when the air cover is needed, the ships are due in, the door needs kicking in, the beaches need to be held. and you are sitting in the water waiting for that basket to come down…

…being part of a semi-retarded organization where change is glacial, and you may be “67T, 1 each,” but you create a better place to your left and right… despite the forces of bureaucracy working against you…

…Lots of other things…

Miranda: Days are long, years are short, and you can’t plan too far ahead no matter what your CPT says about not calling you back in early.

James: The hours spent training and the hours after training spend BSing.

Thomas: Holidays away from home, but not away from the second family.

Kristyn: Being born an only child, but having brothers and sisters all over the world!

Chad: The sound of your B-hut mates repeating your first name over and over again for no good reason.

Juan: Knowing that your family is spread all over the world and every pcs is a family reunion… Learning to hurry up wait! 

Billy: the honor of protecting loved ones sleeping safely at home.

Benjamin: More than words can say.

Brett: Proud to be a part of something bigger than yourself!

Neil: Obligation as both a responsibility and a comfort that crosses miles and years.

Jon: Knowing that someday we will have to open that shoebox under the bed.

Jeff: Knowing that you did it, so that others didn’t have to.

I changed the order a bit to highlight the last two comments: “knowing that someday we will have to open that shoebox under the bed,” and “knowing that you did it, so that others didn’t have to.” The shoebox under the bed is a frightful entity, for some. The aches and pains of our experiences are the lingering remnants of a time long gone where we were spry, foolish, and young; to face the realization that the things in our various shoeboxes, toughboxes, and other storage bins are touchstones of those years never relived can be tough. The memories of the casualties of those times – friendships, relationships, and efforts wasted away for the sake of political gain – are often associated with guilt, anger, and bitter questions. However, for most, that shoebox will never be discarded – the contents within are the foundations of who we are at the moment and where we are headed. These things we have done were for various reasons; the fact that we did it, however, proudly sets us apart from those whom we served for.

This is what it means, to me, to be a Veteran.