Born At The Right Time

How lucky can one man get?

That’s a song I remember. John Prine, I believe?

Being born in 1957 was very lucky.

I recall the good times in our country’s history.

Sure there was the Cold War hide-under-your-desk drill, but we didn’t take that all so seriously. We probably didn’t understand how close we came to actually seeing our desktops melting away from a thermonuclear heat-wave.

I remember the Cuba Missile Crisis, JFK assassination, Nixon scandal, etc, etc.

The thing that sticks in my mind the most, though, is Vietnam. Seeing the body counts on TV every night. Seeing the pictures of helicopters dropping off soldiers running to who knows where to fight unseen enemies to what fate? How many would be on tomorrow’s body count? How many would come home? And come home to what kind of welcoming committee? Hippies protesting and calling them baby killers? Spitting on them? For what? For doing what they were sent to do?

I remember looking ahead to graduating from High School knowing full-well I’d face the chance of a low draft number, as many had before me. I knew that was coming.

Then the ‘conflict’ was ended. Two short years before having my number called. Holy Shit. My first recognition of the fact that I was born at the right time, not to mention in the right place.

Then they even discontinued the draft! Furthermore they even did away with mandatory registration. What luck. Especially after witnessing uncles, cousins, hometown boys, etc go off to that hell hole only to come back “different”.

Throughout my adult life, I’ve listened to many a story from those men who endured ‘in country’. The stories raise the hair on your neck. I have always felt obliged to ever one of those men. They did that so I wouldn’t have to. Even though that’s not really why they did it. They had no choice. They weren’t as lucky.

I have thanked as many of them as I have conversed with. Each and every one of them. I owe them. I know that. And I owe it to luck that I wasn’t born a few years earlier.

They did what they had to do. Even if they didn’t agree with it. Even while some others stayed behind to protest, smoke dope, drop acid and go to college thanks to having connections or deferments.

I wouldn’t have shirked the duty. I was just simply lucky to have born at the right time.

One lucky bastard. One who knows and recognizes that, though.

So for those who volunteer for duty these days, I am beholding, likewise. These are special people, even if some politicians and fellow Americans don't understand that. We owe these special people a debt we probably cannot repay beyond respect, prayers, acknowledgement, support and donations, if we can.

Check out Project Valour-IT

http://soldiersangels.org/valour/index.html