So another Veterans Day has passed. We demonstrated all of the requisite tributes to our military heroes past and present. We waved the flag, saw pictures of cemeteries containing the multitudinous dead, endured the inescapable camouflage-carpet bombing of the National Football League and enjoyed the many veterans parades across the nation.
I joined the army at 18. That’s what guys did in my neighborhood. It was either that or work at the mills.
A while back I met a guy who was assisting veterans. He told me that hundreds of veterans with PTSD were living out in the Maine woods. They lived alone and many were paranoid. Apparently, most of these fellows have little interest in outside assistance and simply want to be alone.
We don’t see them, but these men are casualties of war and remain with us. The count for Vietnam was 57,000-plus dead. Many thousands more are suicides, escapists, mentally deranged and sadly hurt wanderers. All victims of leaders who meant well.
After two decades of permanent war, I still stand up when they play the national anthem at the Sea Dogs game, but I remain seated when they play “God Bless America” in the seventh inning.
I get annoyed beyond words when I travel to Rockland over the Bath Bridge and see the latest-model $5.2 billion destroyer being prepared for sea while we need to float a bond issue in Portland to fix our schools.
I watch campaign ads by politicians who play with guns while what my neighbors need is the Medicare that I enjoy.
Meanwhile, I wear my little Good Conduct Medal pin on my lapel and continue to resist military hagiography in all its forms.
Jim Barr
Portland
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