The Hero In My Life

There are a multitude of hero’s in our country, and many of those hero’s are veterans; veterans of every war in this century.  The hero in my life is my Dad.  In reality, he didn’t enter my life as my Dad until I was in high school, but after a few rough years, we became very close.  He is, what I would imagine, the typical veteran.  He doesn’t gloat, preach, or carry a “chip on his shoulder” of his past service.  He talks about his experiences in the service as more “matter of fact” than an accomplishment.  Following are some of the reasons my Dad is the hero in my life:

His service began at age 17 with enlistment in the Air Force.  He eventually gained entry into the newly formed First Air Commando and went to Vietnam when called.  Yet he didn’t go just once, each time he was called to duty, he went—totaling five tours in Vietnam with many different assignments; the last one as a flight engineer on an AC47.  During his tours, he flew a total of 421 combat missions, received 13 air medals, including a distinguished flying cross for heroism and a distinguished flying cross for gallantry in action.  When his last tour was completed he left for home only to learn his AC47 flight crew of 3 years was shot down and perished just three days after he left.  I don’t think he’s ever recovered from that loss and the guilt he bears over not being there with them that day.

After a brief stint of 9 months in civilian life, he yearned to serve his country again, and joined the Coast Guard.  The idea of saving lives offered great appeal after his many tours in Vietnam.  He worked at several Coast Guard bases across the United States until finally settling at Annette Island in Alaska.  By the time of his retirement from the Coast Guard, he was credited with saving 62 lives in the helicopter he crewed.

Yet, even after all of his accomplishments, I remember so clearly the day he and I watched on the TV, the two jetliners crash into the World Trade Center towers on 9/11.  Without second thought, as soon as he could, he went to the recruiter’s office to re-enlist.  If not for his age, he would have been serving his country the next day I’m positive.

My Dad is patient, selfless, and humble.  He is one of the most dedicated people to God and Country I have ever met. 

In closing, my Dad has never been to Washington D.C. to say one last hello and then goodbye to his crew that perished back in Vietnam; to touch their names on the wall and weep at their headstones at Arlington.  Should I be fortunate enough to win this essay contest, I will send my Dad and Mom to Washington D.C. for the ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery  to do what a lot of other veterans do not get to do because of financial hardship, age or disability.  It would be the least I could do to say thank you to a great hero of my life and this Country.