Our Debt to Veterans Goes Beyond a Salute to the Flag

On this Memorial Day, my thoughts are drawn to our veterans and to family.  And today I remember my uncle. I did not know him well for reasons I will go into shortly, but as I grow older, I look back with more knowledge and experience that changes how I feel about him.

My uncle was a fun-loving guy prior to World War II, but like so many fun-loving guys at that time, everything took a more serious tone after Dec. 7, 1941.  My uncle ended up in the infantry and got to see the world, so to speak. His soldier days ended at the battle of Anzio in Italy. He was one of many who were wounded in that battle. Seriously wounded. He had a number of hospital operations to try to correct an abdominal wound, and although it was patched up, he was never really whole after that.

He never talked about the war itself, although once in awhile he would share a story about his soldier buddies that would bring a smile to his face. His war experiences had been painful. And he sought solace in alcohol. He was an alcoholic for the rest of his life and because of that, he was more or less ostracized from our family. 

My parents would often get late-night calls from him getting out of a bar or from the police when he was arrested. My dad, his brother, was at a loss as to what to do with him. He was seldom welcome at our house.

But then, in the early 1960s, my father had a stroke. He was in very tough shape and faced a very long rehabilitation. We had a small farm that barely managed to eke out a living and I was too young to take over all the chores necessary. But then out of the blue, my uncle showed up. He took over milking the cows, feeding the pigs, and the repairs on the machinery. I helped as much as I could and during that time, got to know my uncle a little bit. The early  morning work was hard on him. I could see his hands trembling as he struggled to overcome the detoxification that was going on inside of him. He fought his drinking hard that summer and the pain he was going through was evident. He took me under his wing and showed me what to do to get the most out of our chores. I could tell that his life had been hard as bits and pieces came to light, but he didn't complain about it. Often he would talk about how many of his troubles were self inflicted. As I look back on that time, I know that his injuries and war trauma were a large part of his troubles as well. 

Like his time in the Army, he took duty seriously and he felt a duty to his family even if he wasn't welcomed much. He stayed sober during that time. His physical health didn't improve much—the alcohol was used to hide the constant physical and emotional pain. But he toughed it out. When my father was finally able to come back and resume the reins, my uncle moved on. 

He went back to the bottle and his ties to the family again were strained. Eventually, his hard life led to a terminal battle with brain cancer. Not many people came to his funeral.

On this Memorial Day, I think of my uncle. I think of all those men and women who have died on foreign soil. But my thoughts today are particularly with those who came home from those conflicts, different in body and mind—lives forever altered and relationships forever changed.

Our debt to these veterans does not end with flowers on a grave or a salute to the flag. It must also involve an ongoing repayment to those who come back with wounds in body and soul. 

Veterans deserve our sincere thanks but also our monetary and spiritual investment in their lives going forward.

-Dave Mindeman, mnpACT!