Old Soldiers never die

                                                                                         

Old soldiers never die they simply fade away

I was talking with a gentleman the other day about the new World War II Memorial and the fact that so many honorable veterans of that harsh conflict have left us.
Then I got to realizing how fast time flies. In order to have fought in the last year of World War II, which was 1945, at the legal age of 18 (there were some younger who lied about their age to get in the military), that veteran today would have to be at least 78 years old.
Statistically the average age for service in World War II was in the mid twenties, so that would put most of the veterans of that war near 80 years of age or beyond.
Even the veterans who fought in the terrible Korean War are no longer young. An 18-year-old who fought in 1953, would today have to be at least 66 years old with the majority averaging over 70.
Which brings me to the conflict I was personally involved in, the Vietnam War. It has been 37 years since my last major tour of duty in Vietnam, although it seems like only yesterday, and here I am at the ripe old age of 60.
When I joined the Army in 1963, I remember telling myself that the veterans of World War II were "the old guys," but the war had only been over for a mere 18 years at that time, and the veterans of World War I, a mere 45 years earlier were "ancient." (What few World War I veterans that are alive today would have to be a minimum 101 years old.)
Well, I guess what all this mind splitting arithmetic boils down to is the fact that I'm getting old. I am now one of the "Old Warriors" in the eyes of today's young generation.
I guess that is how my own sons and daughters and nephews and nieces look at this old warhorse.
The important thing to me is that I have never lost respect towards the older generation. I am just as proud of those 80 something year old World War II Veterans and younger Korean Veterans as I was when I was a greenhorn teenager. I still stand in pride when they enter in my presence.
Although I have followed in their footsteps and laid down a long and honorable trail of service to our country, I still think of them as having sacrificed more for our country than any other generation.
When I look into their aging faces and young eyes, at that distant stare of memories fresh as yesterday and friends never forgotten, my respect and admiration multiplies ten fold.
I observed the same sense of wonder in the eyes of some young helicopter pilots not long ago and in the wide eyes of some young Ranger Paratroopers when they looked at me in my old uniform.
Fresh out of flight school and jump school they were in awe at standing next to an Old Warrior who defied the odds and parachuted into the hostile jungles of southeast Asia when their fathers were youngsters.
It has also made me realize that age is not what makes you old. In my mind and in my heart I am still a young whippersnapper, still king of the hill and anxious for that next challenge.
As for the eventual coming of the grim reaper I have no fears and no regrets. I have no fears because I walk with the Lord and know where I am going and no regrets because I have lived a life of service and honor.
I know that the Lord has reserved a special place for me among the ranks of America's honorable Legionnaires. I could ask for nothing more nor nothing less than to spend eternity on fame's eternal camping ground with them.

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