I live out in the countryside of western Oregon, in a valley nestled between mountains and ocean. There aren’t any large military posts in the state, but we have a relatively large veteran population. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t see someone wearing a veteran shirt or ball cap.
People here are generally open and friendly, often greeting each other in passing. But the coronavirus has changed that for the worse, since nearly everyone wears masks now. It’s been especially challenging because face coverings make it harder to be understood, and limit our ability to see other peoples’ faces. This is just my own observation, but it seems like many folks have retreated from contact with others.
During trips into town, I try to make time for greeting other veterans when I see them. All it costs is a few minutes to say hello and thank them for their service. Over the years, I’ve received all kinds of reactions, from genuine happiness (which happens most times) to downright rudeness.
From time to time, I’ve read that some veterans are uncomfortable being thanked for their time in the military. One poll in November 2019 found that 49% of active service personnel and veterans feel that way. 1 The New York Times reported in a February 2015 article: 2
Mike Freedman, a Green Beret, calls it the “thank you for your service phenomenon.” To some recent vets — by no stretch all of them — the thanks comes across as shallow, disconnected, a reflexive offering from people who, while meaning well, have no clue what soldiers did over there or what motivated them to go, and who would never have gone themselves nor sent their own sons and daughters.
I’ve experienced this phenomenon on occasion when thanking veterans, especially those younger than me. It’s always puzzling, especially when I identify my own status. To me, we all share the experience of duty, regardless of when when each of us served in uniform. So I’ll keep thanking other veterans.
Another effect of quarantine is that many Americans, including veterans, are experiencing an unprecedented crisis of loneliness. One Veterans’ Affairs researcher noted: 3
Humans are social beings, and connection to others is part of what buoys us in a stressful world,” … “When people are cut off from others—whether they are truly socially isolated and are alone or just feel isolated and are lonely—they are navigating their lives without the stabilizing ballast of friends and loved ones. That can lead to major depression and its cardinal symptoms: feeling down, fatigued, overwhelmed, and unmotivated.
Sometimes, a simple connection can do wonders for another person. It doesn’t cost anything, and if they blow you off, what have you lost? But what if that stranger is struggling, or lonely? You might make their day, and feel a little better yourself.
Reaching out to another veteran
One day last week I drove to the local supermarket with a grocery list. As I shopped, I noticed an older gentleman wearing a U.S. Army ball cap. He looked to be in his 80s, wandering around the store. Although I can’t say why exactly, it seemed that he might be lonely. I placed an order in the meat department, deciding to strike up a conversation with him.
Walking over to the man, I said, “Hello sir, I saw your Army cap and wanted to say thanks for your service.” He perked up and I asked where he had served. He replied, “Oh, I was stationed in a little place in Germany nobody ever heard of.” Naturally, this piqued my interest since I’ve spent a good deal of my life in Germany.
We continued chatting for a few minutes and the old Soldier informed me that he had spent eighteen months in Bad Kissingen during 1959-60. What a coincidence! That was my home station during my service with the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment late in the Cold War. I said, “It’s a small world. I was stationed there too—Daley Barracks.“
Even though his face was covered with a mask, it was easy to see that my new buddy was surprised someone knew where Daley Barracks was located. It was a small post and I would guess no more than 1,500 Soldiers were assigned there at any one time.
While I waited for my steaks, the old Soldier and I shared memories of Daley Barracks. I learned that he was with the field artillery battalion on the other side of the post. Back in the day, the artillery area may as well have been the opposite end of the earth. We in the Blackhorse never went over there, except to pass through, and the gunners never came into our area. But that was then and this is now.
I pulled up the satellite view of Daley Barracks on my iPhone and we looked at it together, remembering little things that our lives were made of. Most of the old post has been demolished to make way for new businesses, but several of the original buildings have been repurposed and are still in use. Although games likely haven’t been played there in decades, our old ballfield is still clearly visible on the satellite view, an echo of America’s favorite pastime in a faraway land.
Finally, I realized that my steaks had been waiting for quite a while on the meat counter. The old Soldier and I said goodbye. Before parting, he told me, “This is the first time in sixty years that anyone I talked to knew where Daley Barracks was.”
So where the hell was Daley Barracks? We remember—we were there.
Never forget,
Mark
Notes
- 2,000 veterans and active service personnel were polled in the Cohen Veterans’ Network survey of 2019. 49% stated they were uncomfortable receiving a thanks for their service.
- The cited passage is from the article, “Please Don’t Thank Me for My Service” in the February 21st, 2015 edition of The New York Times.
- The cited passage is found on the webpage “The loneliness factor: How much does it drive depression in Veterans?” from the Office of Research & Development, DVA, February 28th, 2018