An Earlier Uniform

Military families also serve. This picture was taken about 1952 in Germany. The tailor downsized one of my Dad’s uniforms.  I wore it proudly at the ripe old age of four. 

My father deployed more than half of my formative years…those years that I asked the question of what it took to be a man. Our family went into survival mode every time he left. My only sister called it quits and married early to escape that life. My mother and I landed in cheap rents and lived simply, often literally ‘out of the box.’  Life would always return to normalcy upon his return.

The year after my picture was taken, my father was shot in the head while stationed on the Korean DMZ. A sniper wounded him a year after the official truce. I heard my Dad clearly when he later said, “Son, keep that damn steel pot on your head.” His helmet saved him from being a fatality. Military families face fear on every deployment.

My father returned to Korea for another tour when I was about 15. He suffered two major heart attacks shortly upon arrival. He was getting too old for field duty. They eventual returned him to the nearest military hospital, a naval hospital in Chelsea, Massachusetts. It was still too far to easily drive from Central Maine. 

My mother was hit by a car while my father was still in the hospital. She died a week before my 16th birthday. My birthday was spent thinking about the possibility of losing both parents.

My father slowly recovered, squeezing out his last year on light duty for retirement. We moved some more. We talked about my education. It was during one of those conversations that I inadvertently mentioned that I had attended 18 schools to date. 

He first thought that I exagerated. I quitely sat down with pen an paper to list the schools in sequence. Near the end I drew his interest. There were 22 entries (I had returned to four schools). 

During the talk of one more move…I broached the subject of my own military enlistment. High school transitions were too big of a change. Dad bought it and the process began in that early Fall. We shook on the promise of an honorable discharge and a GED.  Upon discharge both promises were fulfilled.

Currahees…My enemy was none other than Death. I had both feared it and seen it firsthand before my enlistment. Perhaps you can see why I fought the war as a medic.

However, there would be only one round in my battle. I wanted a family to end that ever present loneliness, known especially by soldiers. I knew firsthand that families pay too high a price for serving.