Where are the salutes for our men in uniform?

Paul Anderson

Mike Smith remembers when a sniper drew a bead on him like it was

yesterday. Ask him about it, and he tells you pretty nonchalantly,

like he’s talking about the jerk who cut him off in traffic that

morning.

He was doing his time in Vietnam. He drove a ’66 Ford truck around

the base picking up the salvageable parts from damaged air planes.

One night, he took a step out onto the balcony for a smoke and --

boom! -- the bullet whizzed by.

“It was about 6 o’clock on a Sunday and like a dope I lit up a

cigarette,” Smith says as he sips a beer at the VFW hall in Rancho

Cucamonga. It’s Veterans Day, and he’s just knocking a few back,

watching the ceremonies in Washington on C-Span with several other

military buddies. The guys tease each other relentlessly. Mike winks

at me as he does so to let me know it’s all in fun. But I know.

That’s how military guys are. They bond -- glued together by trauma,

pain, disappointment, nightmares, loyalty, honor, you name it.

“I took a header off the second story right into a puddle of mud,”

Smith says. “The guys on the perimeter thought I was shot.”

But he was OK. He got the wind knocked out of him, but that was

about it. Then there was the time he got out of his truck and moments

later -- KABLAM! Just seconds separated him from the eternal oblivion

that bomb promised and his sitting in the VFW joking with his buddies

30 years later.

Then there’s Pablo Pastel. Stationed in Iceland during Vietnam, he

didn’t have to worry about snipers. He had to worry about those mines

he was building. Would they blow up? Maybe. But he got through it OK.

Now, he can’t resist telling me or Mike or anyone else in the bar

about his daughter Renee and his grandson. Renee’s a third-class

petty officer in the Navy. Part of her job, coincidentally enough, is

sweeping for mines. She’s due to ship out to Bahrain soon. Dad’s

worried, but he’s so proud that he’s trying to talk her into a Navy

career. But she wants to be a veterinarian. He laughs when I say,

“She wants to be a vet/vet.”

Then I met Paul Marsh, a World War II veteran who served in the

North Atlantic and South Pacific theaters as a Navy seaman. He earned

three battle stars in the South Pacific aboard the USS Stevenson. He

doesn’t care to talk about how he earned those stars except to say

that, sure, his battle ship was attacked and he had to stare down

death on occasion.

Same thing for Greg Siegrist, who served in the Army in Vietnam.

He casually says he had to shoot his rifle a few times, but he

indicates I should talk to a veteran who goes by the mysterious

handle Cliffhanger if I want some real combat stories. Cliffhanger

earned seven purple hearts and a silver star for pulling a couple of

wounded officers off the battlefield during a firefight. He’s not

crazy about talking about his battlefield experiences, either.

But they don’t have to. I just asked because I wanted some good

stories to give a guilt trip to those community leaders who didn’t

think to organize anything in their honor. Tuesday was Veterans Day.

But I don’t need stories. I shouldn’t need anything to motivate

the community to honor our veterans. That should be automatic. Too

bad it isn’t.

This all started last week when I asked one of our reporters to

hunt down Veterans Day events we could cover in the paper. This year

in particular, I said, we should go whole hog. The country’s at war.

Well, guess what? Turns out not much was happening. In fact, there

was nothing planned in Claremont or Upland.

Here’s what happened: The guys at the local American Legion post

and the area VFW hall got their wires crossed somehow, and the annual

Claremont ceremony didn’t happen.

Kevin Arnold, commander of Claremont’s American Legion, was really

apologetic when I called. But I told him it’s not his fault. I don’t

understand why the city fathers aren’t organizing the Veterans Day

events. Why do they leave it up to the VFW and American Legion to

organize events honoring the veterans? That doesn’t make any sense.

Should you be in charge of planning your surprise birthday party? Not

if you have good friends. Are we good friends to our local veterans?

Judging from Tuesday’s lack of support, I’d say no.

And you know what? They noticed. Of course their feelings were

hurt. All those guys I hung out with Tuesday, especially the Vietnam

veterans, have been smarting since they came home 30 years ago to

taunts and a spit in the eye.

I don’t care if you supported Vietnam or the Gulf wars; you should

be thankful that there are people out there who will put their lives

in harm’s way to defend this country’s principles. They didn’t do

anything wrong. They felt like they were doing the right thing. So

what’s wrong with that? Nothing. And the antiwar protesters didn’t do

anything wrong either, in my opinion. They feel like they’re doing

the right thing, too. But that’s America. It’s why I love this

country and what it was founded on so dearly.

We used to be able to disagree with civility. Now I turn on the TV

and these so-called debate shows are just people screaming at each

other. On Veterans Day, we should be able to put our differences

aside and recognize something that’s as plain as day: Thank God there

are men and women out there who have the courage to put their lives

on the line for our liberty.

And God bless fellows such as Kevin Arnold who aren’t the least

bit resentful. He’s got a great attitude. He’d love some help next

year putting on a Veterans Day event Claremont can be proud of.

Next year, let’s pay them the proper respect. Teachers, maybe you

can organize a field trip to the national cemetery. The kids have the

day off anyway, and left to their own devices, they’ll just play

video games and watch cartoons.

Political leaders, organize a parade, a flag-raising ceremony,

anything. Give the veterans the day off. We should treat them as

honored guests, not hosts. After all, we can never repay them, but

that’s OK with them. All they’ve ever asked for in return was a

little appreciation. Surely, we can spare that. Can’t we?