I have never served in the military. The idea is fairly laughable since I have virtually no self-discipline, not much of a sense of duty, and a more-than-healthy questioning of authority. The roots of my appreciation for the military, however, run deep.
Since I am a Southerner, the story starts before I was born.
In our family cemetery at Mountain View Church, Patrick County, Virginia, is the gravestone of Granny's brother, Eldridge Eaton, who "died a homesick soldier boy at Camp Lee, Virginia, Christmas Day, 1918." Granny, just a few years younger than he, recalled the family had gathered for Christmas dinner when the courier came with the news. In the 1960s, my Uncle Franklin would spend two years in the hospital at Fort Lee, having been wounded in Viet Nam.
My great-grandfather was captured at Gettysburg, on the second day of the momentous battle, and became a prisoner of war at Fort Delaware and later at Point Lookout. Some of his cousins and uncles survived; some did not. He did. Thirty years later my Grandpa would be born and Grandpa would tell me his dad's stories, and those of his uncles--all of whom had left the mountains of Virginia to fight for the Confederacy.
My great-grandfather was captured at Gettysburg, on the second day of the momentous battle, and became a prisoner of war at Fort Delaware and later at Point Lookout. Some of his cousins and uncles survived; some did not. He did. Thirty years later my Grandpa would be born and Grandpa would tell me his dad's stories, and those of his uncles--all of whom had left the mountains of Virginia to fight for the Confederacy.
My Grandpa went into the army during World War I. He served at Camp Colt, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and his commanding officer was Col. Dwight D. Eisenhower. Grandpa had been a coal miner, had breathing problems, and received a medical discharge. Col. Eisenhower signed it and my aunt still has it.
My other Grandpa would sail to France--on a sea so full of ships he could not see the end. He never told me his stories.
My other Grandpa would sail to France--on a sea so full of ships he could not see the end. He never told me his stories.
Daddy enlisted in the army two months before the Korean War ended. He planned to join his brother, Harold, who was already there. His brother, Bill, and brother-in-law, James, had not been home long from service in World War II. Daddy wanted to make the military his career but Mama felt her first obligation was to be close to her parents.
Every time we went on vacation, we toured military posts. I'll never forget walking through sandy Fort Eustis, Virginia, on our way to Washington. When I tell my military buds we went to Fort Eustis for vacation, they become hysterical.
As an historian, I have researched the stories of soldiers--from the Civil War to today. What motivates them? What do they care about? What is their experience? These questions compel me to ask. And on this blog, I will share the answers with you, dear reader, answers from soldiers serving now and those who served more than a century ago.
As an historian, I have researched the stories of soldiers--from the Civil War to today. What motivates them? What do they care about? What is their experience? These questions compel me to ask. And on this blog, I will share the answers with you, dear reader, answers from soldiers serving now and those who served more than a century ago.
Photo by Spc. Mike Pryor
November 1, 2006
Paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne Division practice battle tactics at Range 42 in Fort Bragg, N.C. This photo appeared on www.army.mil.
2 comments:
I've never been in the military, and despite the fact I could never have hacked it anyway (your self-description in your first paragraph applies exactly to me too), I've had my regrets for not joining up.
I've always been a military/military history enthusiast and I look forward to what is sure to be an enlightening blog.
Clint
Clint, you're always a gentleman and perhaps should have been an officer. Thanks, and feel free to send ideas -- folks who would make good interviews or stories from the past.
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