Tomorrow is November 11. What was once Armistice Day became Veterans Day in the U.S. in 1954. My service in the Army began in May of 1981 and lasted until June of 1986. By the time I joined, the draft was a thing of the past. I volunteered. That act was somewhat of a lark. A friend of mine was joining and suggested I accompany him to the recruiting station. One thing led to the next and in short order I had signed up to start Basic Combat Training at Fort Jackson in May of 1981 and to attend the Defense Language Institute in Monterey to learn Russian thereafter. One of my goals in joining was to return to Berlin. I’d visited the city with my father during the spring of my senior year in high school and was immediately intrigued by the place. Near the end of 18 months of language training I received orders for Field Station Berlin. Mission accomplished!
I’ve said many times since separating from the Army that enlisting was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I grew up. At the time I was working on and off in Berkeley, on the fast track to nowhere as the saying goes. I leaned almost immediately how to finish any unpleasant task, something I’d rarely done before. I got to live in Monterey, California for a year and a half while I learned Russian. I studied at the National Security Agency. I spent three years living and working in Berlin during the Cold War. While in Berlin I finished my undergraduate degree, got accepted into law school, and, most importantly, got married. I paid for law school with my G.I. benefits, and eventually bought a home using my VA loan. In short, when people thank me for my service, I feel a bit guilty. I got so much out of serving in the Army, some of it material, much of it not, that it is hard to imagine what my life would have been like had I not enlisted.
Since my honorable discharge it has become common for people in the U.S. to say “Thank you for your service” when they find out I’m a veteran. The genesis of that well-meaning gesture, in my view, was a general recognition of the often shameful way veterans were treated during and in the aftermath of the war in Vietnam. My joining in 1981 meant, among other things, that I experienced none of that. People were either interested in hearing about my military experience or not; none were hostile when my service came up in conversation. I am profoundly aware that my experience is far different from my fellow veterans whose experiences were fraught with mortal danger, men and women who undoubtedly deserve our collective gratitude. And while I often reflect on my own military experience, I pay special attention to what those veterans endured and sacrificed on November 11 of each year.
