November 11. Veteran's Day... a national holiday to honor those who've served in the armed forces. Originally proclaimed as Armistice Day in 1919 by Woodrow Wilson to observe the end of WWI "... with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service..." at the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month.
In 1945 the purpose of the holiday was expanded to include all veterans, and in 1954 Congress replaced the term "Armistice" with "Veterans."
This year, 2012, is the first Veterans Day celebrated, ironically, without a living veteran of the First World War. Yet approximately 2 million WWII vets survive, as well as vets from Korea, Vietnam, Lebanon, Grenada, Panama, Iraq and Afghanistan.
Memorial Day is our holiday recognition of the sacred dead. But the living too, deserve our respect and ongoing concern. More and more we are recognizing the cost of service to those men and women who have witnessed the horrors of combat; the psychological and emotional price paid by veterans of all ages, in all wars. PTSD, battle fatigue, combat stress, and shell shock are terms used since World War I to describe their trauma. "Irritable heart" or "Da Costa's Syndrome" were Civil War nomenclature for those same afflictions, which have been noted as far back in history as Herodotus.
I recently finished reading "Dispatches," Michael Herr's brilliant memoir of his experiences as a correspondent in Vietnam, and I was particularly struck by his description of the face of one young GI: "He had one of those faces, I saw that face at least a thousand times at a hundred bases and camps, all the youth sucked out of the eyes, the color drawn from the skin, cold white lips, you knew he wouldn't wait for any of it to come back. Life had made him old, he'd live it out old."
It made me wonder how many of those faces we as a nation have created, war after war, since 1776. No, freedom is not free. It is historically a bloody enterprise, a brutal, demanding dream, killing and maiming its defenders as surely as it benefits those willing and fortunate enough to take advantage of its blessings. Veterans Day, if it stands for anything, should serve as an everlasting reminder that we owe the living veteran everything we can do to erase - or at least mitigate, as best we know how - the scars he or she bears for having served. And survived.
In 1945 the purpose of the holiday was expanded to include all veterans, and in 1954 Congress replaced the term "Armistice" with "Veterans."
This year, 2012, is the first Veterans Day celebrated, ironically, without a living veteran of the First World War. Yet approximately 2 million WWII vets survive, as well as vets from Korea, Vietnam, Lebanon, Grenada, Panama, Iraq and Afghanistan.
Memorial Day is our holiday recognition of the sacred dead. But the living too, deserve our respect and ongoing concern. More and more we are recognizing the cost of service to those men and women who have witnessed the horrors of combat; the psychological and emotional price paid by veterans of all ages, in all wars. PTSD, battle fatigue, combat stress, and shell shock are terms used since World War I to describe their trauma. "Irritable heart" or "Da Costa's Syndrome" were Civil War nomenclature for those same afflictions, which have been noted as far back in history as Herodotus.
I recently finished reading "Dispatches," Michael Herr's brilliant memoir of his experiences as a correspondent in Vietnam, and I was particularly struck by his description of the face of one young GI: "He had one of those faces, I saw that face at least a thousand times at a hundred bases and camps, all the youth sucked out of the eyes, the color drawn from the skin, cold white lips, you knew he wouldn't wait for any of it to come back. Life had made him old, he'd live it out old."
It made me wonder how many of those faces we as a nation have created, war after war, since 1776. No, freedom is not free. It is historically a bloody enterprise, a brutal, demanding dream, killing and maiming its defenders as surely as it benefits those willing and fortunate enough to take advantage of its blessings. Veterans Day, if it stands for anything, should serve as an everlasting reminder that we owe the living veteran everything we can do to erase - or at least mitigate, as best we know how - the scars he or she bears for having served. And survived.
Left: My dad, PFC Edwin G. Mortensen, awarded the Bronze Star for action in the Po Valley, Italy, 1944. Recalling the deprivations and violence of his service would bring him to tears. He described combat as a "seminal" experience, saying, "A man cannot come out of it the same fellow."
