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"A few now and then around town. Why are you asking?"
"I want to get the old group back together for one last mission."
"Steve, I don't understand. What mission? What are you talking about?"
I told him my plan.
Three weeks later, twelve Viet Nam vets stood in the terminal of the Minneapolis International Airport along with fifteen members of V.F.W. Post #22. I had done my homework. Today there would be four planes coming in that would have returning soldiers on them. When the troops flew back from overseas, friends of mine notified us what airlines and flights they would be on.
We broke into smaller groups, making sure we had all three concourses covered. Twenty minutes later we saw eight men in uniform walking towards the baggage claim area. We walked up to the group, handed each a small American Flag, and shook their hands.
"I want to thank you for your service," I said, and saluted each. To a man they were taken aback. Some smiled, some eyes on both sides were wet, and a few hugs were exchanged. That day, every man and woman in uniform we saw was thanked for his or her service to our country. We began to meet every flight of returning warriors.
Word of what we were doing spread. Other V.F.W. posts and military groups joined in the effort. About three weeks after I started the campaign, Becky came with me to the airport. She watched from a distance, holding our inventory of American Flags.
When I ran out of flags, I went over to grab a few from her. The kiss I received reminded me of the picture taken in Times Square at the end of World War II, only in reverse.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it." I got another kiss.
"Stephen Moore, you can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but you're a good man. Never forget that."
I never did. And, my fellow vets and I never let another serviceman think he wasn't appreciated when he returned home from war.
The demons weren't gone, but I had finally put then to rest. I had won.
- COMMENTS
Anonymous3 months agoVery good and such a good relating to Viet Nam vets. I r
emeber once in a drunken state saying sayiong something about killing babies. I've never killed anyone that I know about, certainly no babies but coming home to a new daughter diffused a lot of the anti war feelings in the country. I'm glad for the guys getting a much better welcome now.
Anonymous4 months agoOk.... I have one question. How do you overhear that phone conversation and he just sticks around? Also, why throw that out there and not expand upon it any further?
Anonymous5 months agoThere are some things you just can't put behind you -----
Anonymous6 months agoBecky was a bitch. He should have played her the way she played him and dumped her once she was begging to get married and have another child. If it had been a woman suffering from PTSD and a man treated her the way she treated her man the whole sisterhood would have gone to war
Anonymous9 months agoThis story hit me very close to home. It brought a torrent to my eyes. The pain is never gone, it just lies in the back of my psyche only to come out when triggered, but I can deal with it now. I didn't fall as far down as Steve but I did hit my bottom. I came home in November of 71. I was a basket case until 1976. What saved me was my mother who convinced me to get counseling. But there was another factor. I had met a girl, yes a girl. She was 20 and I was 27. She was instrumental in my "rehabilitation". We married and were so for 21 years. We had two biological children, but we raised three others. When she passed I lost my rock. But because of her, I did not lose my way.
My middle son joined the Army. His biological father was a Marine. I asked him why he chose the Army. He said, "Because you were Army Dad." It was the first time he called me Dad. He came home with PTSD and I have been helping him. It is a long road but we understand one another.
