R3 Contributor
“Thank you for your service.”
“Thanks for serving”.
Whenever people say one of these statements to me, I have usually disclosed to them that I am retired United States Air Force officer (Major, 0-4). Sometimes bemused and other times self-conscious, after stumbling through a” thank you” for their thanking me I find myself asking just what do these statements mean? Are these heartfelt expressions of gratitude for me daring to have been a part of the one percent of our nation’s population who actually serve in the military? Or are they meaningless mantras uttered out of a sense of Post-Vietnam “we did not support our troops then and now we must make up for it” political correctness?
As a third-generation military service member, I grew up treasuring and ultimately devoting 15 years of United States Air Force service to honoring the significance of U.S. military history and traditions, especially as it pertained to African Americans. My grandfather served in the Army during World War II, and my father joined the Army shortly after the Korean War ended. Several of my uncles and cousins have also served during peace and war times. My brother even served in the Army and in the Florida National Guard. Growing up as a “military brat”, I cultivated the nurturing of my military heritage by attending countless Department of Defense “show-and-tell” events. I grew up participating in a plethora of military activities specifically designed by Department of Defense to help maintain and pass on military traditions to succeeding generations and instill youthful pride in the Army’s mission and the overall military force and strength of the United States.
For me, this strategy worked; I was enthralled. In the 1960’s and 1970’s I rarely missed a military parade or a major Change of Command ceremony, no matter what Army post I lived on as a child or which Air Force base I was later assigned to in adulthood. Equally mesmerizing was watching young men and women marching in synchronized, vocally commanded rhythm past review stands of high-ranking military and civilian dignitaries. I spent annual Army post open houses climbing in and out of Army tanks and helicopters with my brother and sister, running our hands admirably over the large arsenal of artillery and aircraft weaponry. For me, my father’s annual Army unit Family Day picnics taught me first-hand about the awesomeness of the continental air defense mission of the Nike-Hercules missile. Knowing that my father’s military duties supported a military weapon then touted as the “last continental bastion of defense” made my two siblings and me feel safe and proud.
As I grew older, I underwent several memorable phases of military history and heritage bonding. As a teen, I read as many military history books, magazine articles, and news articles as I could get my hands on during my weekly treks to libraries. As a young 20-something adult, I spent my best times gathering military history by listening and talking to some of the older male (and the occasional female) African American veterans who had served in both of the World Wars and the Korean and Vietnam wars. I considered those veterans interactive, living military history.
During my 15-year career as an Air Force public affairs officer, this type of interest in gathering veterans’
narratives culminated in 1993 with one of the greatest face-to-face encounters of my military career. I had a rare chance to meet U.S. Air Force General Benjamin Davis Jr. (the first African American to become a general in the Air Force) and other members of his famed African American World War II 332nd Fighter Group, also known as the Tuskegee Airmen. During that encounter, I sat in stunned silence with the rest of the audience as Davis coolly recounted how he survived four years of “silencing”, (a former West Point cadet practice of shunning peers who violated or were accused of violating the Point’s honor code) to become the first 20th century African American to successfully graduate from the academy. The silencing ploy was designed to demoralize him, break his will, and drive him from the academy. During those four years at West Point, he ate alone and roomed alone. His classmates and instructors spoke to him only when deemed necessary for official academy business. Despite being ostracized, he persevered, graduated, and was commissioned in 1936, 13th in a class of 276 cadets. Years after this harsh racist treatment, he noted wryly, some of his academy classmates steadfastly denied ever silencing him but others apologized.
From reading about and listening to General Davis and other Black veterans’ stories, I began to notice a common thread emerging through their shared perspectives. From their storie
s, I learned that the triumphs and pitfalls they experienced during their military service helped them successfully combat fierce racial discrimination and prejudice on global battlefields and the home front. The discipline and drive they developed as fruits of their military service ultimately gave them the strength to come home from war and confront a not always receptive and appreciative nation.
American Historian scholar Catherine Clinton’s (2000) observation about the exploits of such veterans provides further illumination on that common thread:
Blacks have fought and died in the Americas for centuries, creating an unbroken chain of warriors stretching back nearly 500 years. African Americans took up arms whenever given the opportunity. . . . They have fought throughout the Americas and beyond America’s borders. Black warriors fought for the independence and preservation of the United States. They have risked their lives to secure freedom for their families and their people. Simultaneously Blacks have waged a fierce struggle to be treated with dignity, to be viewed as equals and to be recognized for their valor and achievements. Thus, their accomplishments in the military as patriots and as freedom fighters are too important not to be told.
Typically most military members will give you an “aw shucks” shrug when you laud them for their service. After all they reason they’ve just been doing their jobs. Often just “doing their jobs” included abruptly leaving behind family (often young children and spouses) and friends, putting themselves in harm’s way, risking their health. For them “just doing their jobs” around the clock ultimately became a crucial part of the individual and collective process undertaken to help bring victory for coalition forces in both military conflicts.
May 27, 2013 is Memorial Day. Originally commemorated May 30, 1868, the holiday’s original purpose was to offer a somber reflective final salute to Union and Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Flowers were placed on their graves. After World War I, the holiday was changed to honor all veterans nationwide who had died in any military conflict. Memorial Day is now formally celebrated on the last Monday in May in accordance to the National Holiday Act of 1971.
Today’s Memorial Day is not the “our nation salutes your sacrifice” day of my grandfather’ or father’s generations. In the 21stcentury Memorial Day for most has morphed into a day of firing up the barbeque grill, catching great sales at the Mall and getting the pool ready for summer use. If you really want to thank service members and those who served before us and paid the ultimate price on Memorial Day take time to pay tribute to those who died in the line of duty for this country. Fly your American flag. Visit a cemetery and place flowers on the grave of a military service-member. Go to a parade or another commemorative community event and honor the veterans who are still living. The next time you say “Thanks for your service” or “thanks for serving,” it will indeed on that day be something that is said and felt from the heart.
Rhetoric Race and Religion
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