Happy Birthday America

My wife and I went to the rodeo last Friday. The ceremonies included swearing a dozen or so local high school graduates into the Army. The rodeo announcer said several times that he was glad those young recruits would wear a military uniform, “so that the rest of us don’t have to.” That really hit me wrong. It reminded me of a class I taught. I forget the world situation we were discussing, but I asked my students how the US should respond. The consensus was we should send troops. Then I asked who would volunteer to go. Then there was a moment of silence before one girl spoke for the group. “No” they would not volunteer. Send troops but don’t send us.

My ancestors fought and died for freedom from a British King in the Battle of Culloden Marsh over 30 years before the American Revolution. They lost the battle and their way of life. Some survivors came to America and once again fought for freedom. Brave men fought and died at Concord Bridge and Bunker Hill more than a year before our founding fathers signed the declaration and rang the Liberty Bell. Our freedom was bought and paid for with warrior’s blood. The Spanish American war was also fought for freedom, but it wasn’t for American freedom, it was for freedom of Cuban citizens from a Spanish King. In World War I, II, Korea, Viet Nam and Desert Storm, Americans died for the freedom of the world from tyrants and tyranny. Americans fight for freedom as a concept that should be offered to all people. Send the troops, but don’t send us. To those who don’t have to wear a uniform, American troops are nameless, faceless, and anonymous. But for some of us the sacrifice of a soldier is very personal.

I graduated from West Point right into the Viet Nam War. There are few American historians who remember a two-day conflict in Santo Domingo in the fall of 1964. American troops were sent to guarantee those citizens could have free elections. My friend Chuck was one of those sent. Chuck was the first of my classmates to die for the freedom of others. Bill and Bob had been my room mates. Bill was buried at the cemetery at West Point where his wife and young son accepted the thanks of a grateful nation. Bob was a fifth generation West Pointer and received a hero’s service in his home town in Virginia. Dave was one of my best friends. He attended the survival school at Fairchild on his way to Viet Nam, and spent two days with me and my family. He was selected to be the first African American to fly with the Thunderbirds as soon as he completed his combat tour. I left for Viet Nam a few short weeks after Dave. We were briefed on all shoot-downs because we were frequently diverted to provide protection for down pilots. When the briefing officer said Dave had been lost, it tore a hole in my heart. I couldn’t take time to grieve. I had to go to work. Freedom isn’t free and soldiers are real people.

Travis was one of my high school football players. He wanted to be a running back, and he resisted when I told him I needed an interior lineman. When I explained he could be a running back on the bench or he could help the team, and play every minute of every game as a lineman, he decided he might want to be a guard. He also wanted to be an engineer. When I explained that engineers had to pass Calculus, he decided to become a soldier. He gave his life in Afghanistan as payment to keep the world free from terrorism. Freedom isn’t free.

Brave Americans wear the uniform so that the rest of us don’t have to. The price of freedom is counted by the lives of our soldiers. Freedom isn’t free. Soldiers are real people. As you celebrate our nations birthday on Sunday, please include a moment of silence for those who gave their lives for freedom and bless those brave men and women who gave their lives so that we may be free.

Frank Watson is a retired Air Force Colonel and long-time resident of Eastern Washington. He has been a free-lance columnist for over 20 years.