I have a picture of my father, Major James Marks in front of the Schofield Barracks at Pearl Harbor, days before that fateful day of December 7th 1941 in our Dining room. My dad was also a veteran of the Korean War as well as my brother, Lieutenant James who died prematurely in a car accident. My brother Roy served in Korea and 2 terms in Vietnam. My brother Mike served in Nam and my brothers were highly honored with medals.
My brother Roy caught me wearing my brother Mike's Army Calvary Jacket when I was about 14 years of age. It was a cool thing at the time for us youngsters. I could swear to this day that I had permission from Mike. Roy was highly offended and challenged me to defend the jacket's honor. Mind you at 14 I was about 5'3" and 80 lbs but I took him up on this. I took a swing at Roy and was laid out cold. He beat the sh-- out of me for disrespect of our country. I did not have disrespect, I was just uninformed.
(Why was I so small? I was diagnosed with a rare skin cancer when I was very young that had me going to Stanford Children's Hospital and having radical treatments (Burning off and others) for years. It made for uncomfortable moments in the gym locker for years. "Ew, what the heck is that on your side!" It was a Wild Skin Cell that stopped growing finally in my mid 20's. Local guy Dr. Devine was no help!)
I finally was healthy by the time I graduated at 17 years of age and 5' 10" and 100 lbs. I was not in ARMY condition and neither of my brothers or my father even suggested I enlist. If the draft were in place I would have followed their lead and I respect their reason to not encourage me to go to Nam.
I have many friends and co-workers that are PTSD Posttraumatic stress disorder victims and I honor their duty to our country. I want them all to have all the treatments that are available and to this day feel guilty that they served this country in a manner I have not.
I am honored and humbled by their service. As I hope all other US civilians are.
1 hour ago
6 comments:
Hey Biggie!
Thank you Richard
My father and his father both expatriated from the United States in order to fight the Germans before this country entered either of the world wars. (Both later had their citizenship restored.) My grandfather claimed his missing finger was shot off by a German sniper while he was in the trenches in France in WWI. My father was captured in action on the coast of France and spent most of WWII in a German POW camp.
I was not like my father and grandfather at all. Maybe I lacked their courage. But the Vietnam War was not like the two world wars. Nobody my age (born in 1957) felt a sense of duty to serve in Vietnam as we approached draft age.
It turned out our withdrawal from Vietnam was complete 1 month after my 18th birthday. My father had nothing kind to say about those who fled to Canada to dodge the draft in the 1960s. He had gone AWOL from the U.S. Army in 1940 and fled to Canada in order to get into combat. But in his sober moments, which were increasingly rare as I grew older, he told me he did not want me to fight in any war. He wanted to spare me the experience that had so scarred his own life (and ultimately led to an early death in 1973).
This from a father who showered me with play combat toys as a young boy and who bought me real guns starting when I was 8 years old. But his own combat exerience, a commando raid that went horribly wrong at Dieppe, France two years before D-Day, was so hideous that he didn't want me to experience the same.
I never served in the military. In hindsight, I wish I would have joined the Coast Guard. It would have been perfect for me. I was fascinated by the sea as a youth and had a room full of model Navy ships I had built. But it never came to pass.
When I turned 18 I thought I knew everything and I wasn't about to submit my life to the tyranny of military discipline.
Richard and I are the same age, same height. Like Richard, I was short and skinny as a youth, among the smaller boys in my class. I was probably about 5-3 and 80 lbs at age 14 too. In high school I got a growth spurt, but even at 5-10 was still lucky to tip the scales at 110 lbs at age 18. That might have contributed to my decision not to join the military, being so slight.
But mostly it was because at age 18 I had a full-time job that allowed me to move out of my mother's house and support myself. I had freedom for the first time in my young life and I wasn't about to give it up.
Andrew: My father had some colorful stories of his army adventures. I never knew how much to believe. He sure enjoyed telling them though.
Richard
You have severed our country in a way that many of us haven't. By keeping us motivated, informed and educated on political matters. That we don't understand (or just myself).
Thanks Richard
Rick
our country is split in half because of Rich? I hope that is suppossed to say served. LOL Anyway Rich, great post, today is the day day I am on my knees saying a prayer for all our veterans, still here or fallen. I too served along with a older brother, him in the marines and me in the air force. I also had a great uncle that was at Moffitt(?) Field the day Pearl was attacked. He is still with us and proudly has Pearl Harbor tags on his car.
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