Some gave all and all gave some
By BILLY HOLLAND
Living on Purpose
Though I did not serve in the military, I am very appreciative of those who have. I’m very proud of my son who is a marine that spent time in Japan and Thailand. He has a Masters degree and served with Homeland Security is now working as a police officer at a Veterans hospital.
Neither my father or his dad were soldiers but on my mother’s side of the family, it is quite a different story. My maternal grandfather fought in WWI and was in France. He was injured in the war and according to my mom, he was never the same. I can barely remember him as a child but do recall a few details like when we would visit, he would greet us at the door making meow sounds like a cat and then he would always peel and slice apples and set them on the coffee table. I ate the apples and laughed at his meows. His wife, my grandmother passed away when I was even younger. They had 7 children, 3 boys, 4 girls, and my mother was the baby.
Like many families during that time period, all three sons were eventually enlisted in the military. However, I thought it was even more unique how the father and each son was a soldier in a different war. The dad World War I, the oldest son was in Japan during WWII, the second son was killed in Korea, and the youngest son served in the Vietnam era. I vaguely remember two of these uncles and now realize they both suffered terribly from PTSD. My uncle who was killed in action died in 1950 eight years before I was born.
I wish I had been old enough to speak with these family members about their military experiences. My mother can recall a few memories and recently I contacted the department of military affairs and requested some of their official documents. I received a few things but much of it was difficult to read and some were unfortunately destroyed in a fire at the National Personnel Records Center Archives in 1973.
My mom was very close to her brother who never returned and was convinced that he was her mother’s favorite child. His nickname was Kenny and he worked a little part-time job before he went to the war and she remembers he would give her ten cents every Saturday to buy some candy which she really looked forward to. He would also buy his mother flowers every week and she would sit them on the kitchen table.
She also remembers the day when military representatives knocked on their door and told her mother that they were sorry to inform that her son had been killed. She ran through the house wailing and screaming no please no, over and over. My mother said it was a terrible time and she can recall her mother going to bed and staying there for weeks.
I currently have the privilege to volunteer as a chaplain at a veterans health care facility and its truly an honor to spend quality time with the many fine men and women who have served our nations armed forces. I teach Bible studies and lead worship services with the old hymns which they really enjoy. I’m on call whenever a resident becomes seriously ill and present with the family whenever someone passes away.
I’ve come to accept that many veterans who need constant medical care do not have family or friends to visit them. Many of the older ones have outlived everyone but its still sad to walk into a room and not see any pictures or greeting cards. I’ve asked the staff on numerous occasions if a certain resident has had any visitors and they cannot remember the last time someone was there.
I’m also a chaplain for a small honor guard team which presents memorial services for military veterans. I open and close in prayer and have been known to sing the national anthem on occasions. I encourage you to set aside some time and visit a veteran. They would appreciate it very much and I promise you will also be blessed beyond words.
Veterans day not only remembers those who served our country in the past but also recognizes those who continue to serve today. We share a sincere gratitude to all who gave some and to some who gave all to preserve our freedom.
Read more at billyhollandministries.com.
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