On the wall of my bedroom is a picture of me in my dress blues, one of my father in his, and another of his father in his Army uniform. The latter served with the 32nd Field Artillery in France in WWI, my father was at a hospital on Espiritu Santo in WWII, and I was in Charleston for Vietnam. We were bit players in the world’s biggest dramas. But we were there and played our part.
World War I vets got the short end of the stick after their war, and that’s too bad. A grateful nation, however, gave my dad a nice career and a good retirement, and paid my way through college. I guess that’s why I feel so invested in the country and what it does. And I wonder sometimes if we should bring back the draft just so more Americans could serve and meet other Americans and realize we’re a lot more alike than we think we are in these insular days of division.
