On the way from SeaTac airport to my son's hometown, we decided to stop for dinner at a Golden Corral restaurant in Maryville. The place was packed and had a waiting line, and it turned out they were providing free meals to all veterans or currently active military. There were quite a number of guys wearing their VFW hats or similar identification, and many more who were not, but were easily identified by age as probable WWII vets.
We sat among them and ate happily, and I took time to study the crowd. There were some about my age, who would be Vietnam vets. Some, a little older, were in the Korean conflict. The WWII guys were all about 75 or older. These were the ones who particularly caught my eye. The younger vets were noisy and active, chatting with each other and laughing a lot. But the old ones just sat at their tables with their wives, eating silently. At first it was just the guy sitting at the table next to us that I noticed, but as I studied the room I saw that virtually all of the 75-up crowd was sitting quietly, left out of the celebratory mood.
When I had finished eating I decided that I wanted to talk to these guys, so I got up and made the rounds of my side of the restaurant. At each table where I thought a WWII vet was sitting, I introduced myself and asked if that's what they were. Only one time was I off; two guys at one table were Korean vets (but we had a good chat anyway). As each WWII vet confirmed that he was one, I told him that I was the son of a WWII vet, and had never properly thanked my father for it before he died. Now, I wanted to thank them for fighting as they did. I said that I was grateful to have been born in the United States, rather than in whatever the country would have been if they hadn't fought as they did.
I got appreciative reactions from each of them. One told me a war story, and the wives beamed with pride at their guys getting recognition this way. And when we left the restaurant I felt warm and serene. And my JW son didn't seem to mind a bit. Yes!!!
COMF