Story: No son, I was just a soldier.
note: shawn's home, hope i get to see him. hes my hero. i hate this war, but these people fighting for us are our men. do not call them ignorant or a waste. give them the credit they deserve. these are our men and women dying and surviving and living.
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A young boy is playing in the attic of his house when he comes across a large trunk full of uniforms, pictures and papers. Hidden in the bottom of the trunk under everything else, wrapped in an old green bath towel he find a large cigar box. Being naturally curious as all young boys are when they find a ‘hidden treasure’ he opens the box. Inside he found many ribbons, pins, buttons, and several medals. Further exploring the trunk, he finds pictures of his father as a very young man in the uniforms of the army. He sees his father in combat greens and in dress uniform for the first time in his life. He had never known his father was a soldier, not once in his twelve years of life had he ever heard it mentioned. He sees his father and other young men smiling as they hold up their weapons, food, beer bottles, magazines, each other. He sees them standing in front of signs with names on them he can not even begin to pronounce they are so strange to his young mind. He gathers up his new found treasure and heads for the stairs.
In the living room of his house he places the treasures on the coffee table before his father and asks. “Are these yours dad?” The innocent questing of a young boy for knowledge of his father. His father gets a strange sad faraway look in his eyes as he sees what his son has placed before him. Looking at his wife he receives the answer to his unasked question. “I couldn’t, I’m sorry”. Dumping the contents of the box on the table he answers his son. “Yes, these are mine”. Looking up at his father with new found wonder he asks. “Are you a hero daddy”? With a deep sigh he replies, “No son, I was just a soldier”.
What is this he points at a blue bar with a rifle on it and a wreath around it. “That’s a combat infantryman badge” he replies, “You earn that by being an infantryman in a combat zone in a war”. Eyes widening he asks in a low voice. “You were in a war”? “Yes son, I’ve been to war” is the softly spoken somewhat ambiguous answer. “What is the one with the wings”, he asks. “Those are my jump wings son. I earned them by being in the airborne, a paratrooper”. “And these”, he asks pointing at some shaped like crosses with bull’s-eyes in the center of them and small bars hanging under them. “Those are marksmanship awards son, you earn those by being able to use your weapons well”. “Then you were a hero”. “No son, I was just a soldier”.
Holding up a heart shaped medal with a purple and white ribbon attached a row of four small metal oak leaves adorn the ribbon. “What is this one? It’s pretty”. “That son is the purple heart you are awarded that when you are wounded in battle”. “You got hurt dad”? Not badly son, not badly at all”. He hugs his dad because he is glad he is alright. “What’s the yellow one he asks”? His dad picks up the yellow ribbon with two green and three red stripes, it is also adorned with three small bronze stars “That one is for serving in a place called Vietnam a long time ago. Before you were even born”. “I’ve heard of that war” he says, awe in his voice. His father picks up the rest of the medals and shows them to his son one at a time.
One with a red ribbon bearing white stripes and a silver clasp. “This is my good conduct medal, it means I didn’t get into trouble while I was a soldier” A green one with white stripes and a bronze ‘V’, “My Army commendation medal, I got it by doing my job exceptionally well one day when some men needed me to help them”. A red one with white stripes and a bronze star hanging under it, also adorned with a ‘V’. “My bronze star, Some of my friends were trapped by some bad guys with machine guns one day. My friends were hurt so I ran out and brought them back to safety so they wouldn’t get hurt any more and the doctors could take care of them”. The last one a red white and blue ribbon above a brightly shining star. “My silver star”. A distant look comes over his fathers eyes. “One day our base was in real trouble. The enemy was everywhere. We thought we were all going to die. So five of us decided to charge the enemy. When we did the enemy was so shocked they panicked, the rest of our men saw this and attacked as well. All of us were wounded that day. All of us did our duty and more. They gave me this medal because I was the one who got the others to charge with me.” “you were a hero” he said, a new found respect for his father in his voice. “No son, I was just a soldier”. His father falls silent and seems deep in thought. The boy looks at his mother and sees tears running down her face, it will be years before he comes to realize they were tears of pride, not sadness. His father gathers up the medals and badges and takes them back up to the attic where they remain for many years.
Time passes and the father dies, the boy has grown and has a son of his own. On the wall of his study is a case with a picture of his father. In this case, mounted around his fathers picture are all his fathers medals, ribbons, badges and awards. His son asks him, “Daddy was grandpa a soldier”? “No son”, he replies much pride in his voice. “Your grandfather was a hero”. He then begins to tell his son the things his father had done. Things that most men wouldn’t or couldn’t do. How his grandfather had never seen himself as a hero, just as a soldier doing his duty and helping his fellow soldiers as they needed it. How this is what a hero is, a man who does what needs to be done with no concern for his own safety or life, just for those around him. A man willing to put his own life on the line so that others won’t have to and then to never call attention to himself because he did those things. To ask nothing in return, to just live his life in a manner that allows him to raise a family and have a happy life if he is lucky enough to survive.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A young boy is playing in the attic of his house when he comes across a large trunk full of uniforms, pictures and papers. Hidden in the bottom of the trunk under everything else, wrapped in an old green bath towel he find a large cigar box. Being naturally curious as all young boys are when they find a ‘hidden treasure’ he opens the box. Inside he found many ribbons, pins, buttons, and several medals. Further exploring the trunk, he finds pictures of his father as a very young man in the uniforms of the army. He sees his father in combat greens and in dress uniform for the first time in his life. He had never known his father was a soldier, not once in his twelve years of life had he ever heard it mentioned. He sees his father and other young men smiling as they hold up their weapons, food, beer bottles, magazines, each other. He sees them standing in front of signs with names on them he can not even begin to pronounce they are so strange to his young mind. He gathers up his new found treasure and heads for the stairs.
In the living room of his house he places the treasures on the coffee table before his father and asks. “Are these yours dad?” The innocent questing of a young boy for knowledge of his father. His father gets a strange sad faraway look in his eyes as he sees what his son has placed before him. Looking at his wife he receives the answer to his unasked question. “I couldn’t, I’m sorry”. Dumping the contents of the box on the table he answers his son. “Yes, these are mine”. Looking up at his father with new found wonder he asks. “Are you a hero daddy”? With a deep sigh he replies, “No son, I was just a soldier”.
What is this he points at a blue bar with a rifle on it and a wreath around it. “That’s a combat infantryman badge” he replies, “You earn that by being an infantryman in a combat zone in a war”. Eyes widening he asks in a low voice. “You were in a war”? “Yes son, I’ve been to war” is the softly spoken somewhat ambiguous answer. “What is the one with the wings”, he asks. “Those are my jump wings son. I earned them by being in the airborne, a paratrooper”. “And these”, he asks pointing at some shaped like crosses with bull’s-eyes in the center of them and small bars hanging under them. “Those are marksmanship awards son, you earn those by being able to use your weapons well”. “Then you were a hero”. “No son, I was just a soldier”.
Holding up a heart shaped medal with a purple and white ribbon attached a row of four small metal oak leaves adorn the ribbon. “What is this one? It’s pretty”. “That son is the purple heart you are awarded that when you are wounded in battle”. “You got hurt dad”? Not badly son, not badly at all”. He hugs his dad because he is glad he is alright. “What’s the yellow one he asks”? His dad picks up the yellow ribbon with two green and three red stripes, it is also adorned with three small bronze stars “That one is for serving in a place called Vietnam a long time ago. Before you were even born”. “I’ve heard of that war” he says, awe in his voice. His father picks up the rest of the medals and shows them to his son one at a time.
One with a red ribbon bearing white stripes and a silver clasp. “This is my good conduct medal, it means I didn’t get into trouble while I was a soldier” A green one with white stripes and a bronze ‘V’, “My Army commendation medal, I got it by doing my job exceptionally well one day when some men needed me to help them”. A red one with white stripes and a bronze star hanging under it, also adorned with a ‘V’. “My bronze star, Some of my friends were trapped by some bad guys with machine guns one day. My friends were hurt so I ran out and brought them back to safety so they wouldn’t get hurt any more and the doctors could take care of them”. The last one a red white and blue ribbon above a brightly shining star. “My silver star”. A distant look comes over his fathers eyes. “One day our base was in real trouble. The enemy was everywhere. We thought we were all going to die. So five of us decided to charge the enemy. When we did the enemy was so shocked they panicked, the rest of our men saw this and attacked as well. All of us were wounded that day. All of us did our duty and more. They gave me this medal because I was the one who got the others to charge with me.” “you were a hero” he said, a new found respect for his father in his voice. “No son, I was just a soldier”. His father falls silent and seems deep in thought. The boy looks at his mother and sees tears running down her face, it will be years before he comes to realize they were tears of pride, not sadness. His father gathers up the medals and badges and takes them back up to the attic where they remain for many years.
Time passes and the father dies, the boy has grown and has a son of his own. On the wall of his study is a case with a picture of his father. In this case, mounted around his fathers picture are all his fathers medals, ribbons, badges and awards. His son asks him, “Daddy was grandpa a soldier”? “No son”, he replies much pride in his voice. “Your grandfather was a hero”. He then begins to tell his son the things his father had done. Things that most men wouldn’t or couldn’t do. How his grandfather had never seen himself as a hero, just as a soldier doing his duty and helping his fellow soldiers as they needed it. How this is what a hero is, a man who does what needs to be done with no concern for his own safety or life, just for those around him. A man willing to put his own life on the line so that others won’t have to and then to never call attention to himself because he did those things. To ask nothing in return, to just live his life in a manner that allows him to raise a family and have a happy life if he is lucky enough to survive.
posted by ~Allie~ @ 11:00 AM
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