14 November 2013 -
Heroes and veterans, old and young
I’ve spent the last two weeks in a Veterans’ Day frame of
mind. Throughout my military career in many countries I have contemplated
the significance of the 11th hour of the 11th
day of the 11th month of every year. Now, several years out of
uniform, a series of events has caused me to reflect deeply on the role of
today’s veterans in this great country.
Two weeks ago, William Howard Fotheringham, the most
nearly perfect man I have ever known, died at the age of 93. His funeral
was a small, mostly-family event. It seems he outlived all his
friends.
“Deacon” Fotheringham was a World War II veteran.
He enlisted in 1942, was commissioned a second lieutenant after graduating
flight school, and was shipped off to fly P-38 Lightnings out of New Guinea as
a member of the storied 80th Fighter Squadron. He was credited
with killing one Japanese aircraft on 23 June 1943. In 1944, after he was
shipped back to the US to serve as an instructor pilot, he met Wylene Hunter in
Oakland, CA. He always said it was love at first sight. They
married on 11/22/44, and Howard was a devoted husband throughout their 64 years
of married life. Wylene preceded him in death
in April, 2009.
Lieutenant Fotheringham came home after the war and built
this country. He returned to college and earned a master’s degree and a
counseling certificate. For the next 37 years, he worked for the Salt
Lake Board of Education. He was a quiet, deeply religious man who took
care of his family, paid his bills on time, and provided a great example of
manhood to young men like me. In 1977, when I told him I was going
into the Air Force, I saw a glint in his eyes that I have since seen only in
the eyes of great warriors. He knew what it meant because he had
fought. He had won. And then he
returned and worked hard and honorably until he died. He was the best of
America. Howard, Veteran’s Day is for you. Forever.
On Veteran’s Day morning, I drove to visit a friend
on his 400 acres south of Three Rivers, Texas. We drove around his land,
talked about how to work an honest day, enjoyed watching deer graze, and moved
a bull from one pasture to another. My friend knows how to work.
When I left the next day, I drove through Victoria, Texas, on the way back to
Houston. For some reason, I stopped at the town’s Memorial Square Park,
pulled out my harmonica, and played the songs, “Lorena,” and “Battle Hymn of
the Republic,” for the veterans buried there. No one else, no veterans or
their families were in the cemetery on a Tuesday afternoon. They probably
were all at work.
Wednesday, my wife and I attended a lunch honoring
veterans hosted by a local women’s political group. We had delightful
conversation and good food on a local country club’s beautiful golf
course. The speaker was a 26-year Army veteran. I told him
afterward that for an Army officer, he used a lot of big words. He
laughed and told me that if he had known an Air Force officer was in the
audience, he would have talked a lot more with his hands. We played our
parts well.
About twenty old men were honored. Heroes. Three
were World War II veterans, two were Korean War veterans, and most of the rest
were Vietnam War era veterans. In fact, at sixty years of age, I was the
youngest vet there. It bothered me when I saw that no younger
veterans came. And then I realized that on a Wednesday morning, the young
veterans of the last few wars were probably at work. At that moment, at
that Veterans’ celebration, something became very clear.
I realized that today’s veterans are following in the
steps of their predecessors. They have returned from war. They have
gone to work. They are raising their families and paying their bills on
time. They are the very muscle and sinew of this country. I salute
them as I saluted their compatriots from previous generations. In them, I
place hope and expectations for our future. They have proven worthy
and capable of the work that is ahead of them. They are the examples to
another rising generation real Americans. Veterans’ Day is also
theirs. Forever.
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