Brothers (In Arms): A Veteran's Day Post

 

(I’ve decided to try to get a jump start on my Veterans’ Day post since 9/11 was here and gone before I could even think about posting the blog I had typed up for it!)

My grandfather has an incredible memory. Especially for an 80 something year old man. It’s far better than mine. And I would be willing to bet that if you asked him what happened in any given year of his life, he would be able to tell you numerous things, without even taking longer than 10 seconds to think about it. I could probably tell you what I was doing during any given year of my life, but not without intense research of past emails and historically significant dates and occurrences to help remind me. How he is able to remember specific dates, and things that happened, never ceases to amaze me.

Every once in a while, he would grace us with stories from the past. As small children, we were never really THAT interested and couldn’t figure out why my mom was always wanting to hear more. Hadn’t she already heard them like a million times—he WAS her father, after all. I didn’t realize that the older the got, the more interesting these stories would become. That I would want to know more about my family history before the people who could actually remember it weren’t around any longer.

Among these stories, were stories of his childhood, stories of my mom’s/uncles’ childhood, and most frequently, war stories. After hearing bits and pieces of his “story”, my mom encouraged him to write it down, or tape record it, or SOMETHING, so that his stories would live on long after he was gone. A suggestion was pretty much all it took. After probably a year or less, he had compiled a book, handwritten. One for each of his children, and one of each of his grandchildren detailing everything that he could remember about the war. Which was, of course, a great deal of information. I read through it as soon as I got it, reading through many parts of the story that I had already heard, but also reading things that I didn’t know about, things that I had no idea that my grandfather had experienced.

My grandfather was drafted into World War II, and before long was on his way to Germany with people he had never met before boots far too large for his feet (the only size they had left for him). While he was there, he carried ammo for the unit he was with, and of course, had his fair share of traumatizing experiences. While he was away, he left behind my grandmother, although they weren’t married at the time. It didn’t occur to me until a project in my senior year of college, that my grandmother was, in fact (for all intents and purposes), a military spouse. Who knew we had so much in common?

Although I have spent more time with my grandparents over the past 5 years, due to going to college 20 minutes away, my husband has spent very little time with them. For very good reason, of course—not long after graduating from high school, it was off to the Marine Corps in an entirely different state and sometimes, an entirely different country. In all honesty, I could probably count the number of times they have been under the same roof together, on my fingers. And half of those times have been in the past year.

Nevertheless, whenever I went to my grandparents house, their main concern (especially when he was in a warzone) was always “How is Steve?” Especially my grandfather, who was always persistent in wanting to know everything. “Is he okay? Where is he? Have you heard from him lately?” Keep in mind, that in no way was I bothered by this. In no way am I complaining about it. And in no way was it ever anything that I would have wanted to occur differently. It was a testament of genuine concern from someone who had “been there, done that”, and was now wanting to watch out for anyone that was following in similar footsteps. When it comes to military life and being constantly faced with uncertainty and potential danger, that’s the closest thing to comfort you can ever find. Someone who understands and genuinely cares for you or someone you love, as much as you do. Each day that I visited them that Steve was overseas, as I would say goodbye to my grandparents and headed out the door, I would hug my grandpa as he sat in his chair, and tell him that I loved him. Each time, his eyes would well up with tears, as he would tell me that he prayed for Steve’s safety all the time, and hoped more than anything that he would make it home safely.

If ever you wanted an idea of the bond that exists between brothers in arms, there it is. An 80 something year old many, 60 some years removed from his own service in the military, crying for the safety of a Marine currently at war.

Steve has since returned from his deployment to Afghanistan, and has been able to go with me to my grandparents’ house more. And it almost seems as if my grandpa becomes an entirely different person when he is sitting next to Steve. It’s almost like he goes back to his war days, and relives them, knowing that he is sitting next to someone who has been through something similar. Although completely different ages, and although they fought it completely different wars, in completely different countries, in completely different positions, and completely different time periods, they still have a bond. They are still brothers in arms.

And despite the fact that my grandfather has in impeccable memory, and despite the fact that he used that impeccable memory to record his memories in a book for each of us, when he his with his fellow brother, all of a sudden we are enlightened with stories that we’ve never heard before, and that somehow escaped being recorded in his book. Mostly it’s ‘then vs. now’ stories, but every once in a while some other little story slips in there too. One that I can’t help but wonder, if it was triggered by simply being in the presence of one of his brothers in arms.

So there you have it. The two veterans in my life, who seem to demonstrate the “band of brothers” bond beyond just a single squad, beyond just a single company, beyond just a single platoon, beyond just a single battalion, beyond just a single branch of the military. Beyond just a single war. The two veterans in my life, who have fought for different things, who made different sacrifices, and who experienced completely different methods of war, but still relate to each other. The two veterans in my life, whose stories seem to become more and more complete with each passing year. And the two veterans in my life for whom I am very thankful. TO whom I am very thankful.