Feeling somber today with thoughts of the 83rd anniversary of Pearl Harbor Day. Makes me realize that my worries and concerns are silly in comparison.
My husband was a U.S. Marine for 4 years – 1965-1969. They were on a ship, offshore everywhere in crisis during that time. The most dangerous, I guess, was when he was offshore Cuba. He trained hard and was proud of his service – earned a medal for marksmanship, among others, but was frustrated that he never faced combat. He really wanted to know if he was ‘any good,’ if he could survive. I, being a selfish type in love with him, was relieved he never had to find out.
When we were in California years later at a conference, we took the time to drive down Highway 101 along the CA coast down to San Diego to see the Marine Base there. I think he was disappointed that there were no signs saying, “H. Lewis trained here” and there were no ‘jarheads’ exercising in the heat while we were there.
He’s still embarrassed when someone thanks him for his service. I wanted to purchase a stone plaque in the square in Greenwood to honor his service, but he said an adamant ‘no!’ He feels that he doesn’t belong with those who faced combat, were wounded, or died. The plaques are for all who have served. We have agreed to disagree on this.
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