UNSUNG HEROES

" . . . They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
         Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
                     At the going down of the sun and in the morning
                                We will remember them  . . . "                                             Laurence Binyon          (1869 - 1943)

About 60 years ago, they ended up in the armed forces. They endured basic training and were issued fatigues, a weapon, their eight digit serial number, and 2 dog tags. They were sent far away to some God forsaken place that was too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, too vermin infested, or maybe just plain nasty. Other than monotony, not much ever really happened to them.  They didn't shoot down any planes, or kill any enemy soldiers, and they sure never got any medals. They just had some miserable job to do; possibly some really weird freaking task only the military could ever come up with. But they gave it everything they had because the next guy was depending on it. There was a global war on, and even though they were one tiny gear in a vast machine, their job had to be done. They got it done day after day, week after week, month after month, for years. Except every 5th day when they got KP. Some nights, they sat outside in the elements and saw some bad black and white movie for the 4th or 5th time. They got their Christmas presents in March. They gave blood, and put some of their meager pay into Victory bonds. They wrote love letters back to the states to someone special who might or might not have dumped them over a year ago.  A lot of the time, they ate crummy food and slept under mosquito netting in a tent built by the lowest bidder. If they got really bored and found some free time, they could walk to the beach, ship railing, or perimeter wire, and stare past the edge of their world. They never got a promotion, never got their names in the papers, and if they finally got back stateside, there was no parade either. Many had to hop freight trains or hitch hike just to get back home.  Literally millions of GIs like these served in every theater and branch of service. It takes about 17 soldiers to support one fighting man in a modern armed force. And all the brass, hotshot fliers, skilled boat skippers, tankers, gunners, paratroopers, grunts, UDTs, medics, nurses, combat engineers, and assorted heroes we had could never have won the Second World War without those poor sorry bastards.

 

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