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Going Home

Janice Mayhew slowly limped down the row of small white tombstones at Arlington National Cemetery. Her son, Walt, and her son in law, Eric, each held one of her arms to steady her. The rest of her family, her daughter Melody and Walt's wife June and all their children, had stopped on the walkway to wait.

Janice walked slowly by taking small steps over the grass, partly because her left hip had been bothering her for the last month and partly because she was remembering what had happened before on these Memorial Day weekend trips.

She hadn't understood that first trip until it was over. This last trip she understood why Jimmy had made the first. The reason was the same reason she was making this trip.

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1970 was the year her husband, Jimmy, came back from his twelve-month tour of Vietnam. They'd been married for six months before he left for Vietnam, and she'd spent that year writing letters to him and becoming more and more worried when she read the letters she received back. When he'd left, he was confident and more than a little afraid, and she understood that. She'd seen the war on television before he left, and had watched every night that he'd been gone. What she saw didn't match what his letters said.Going Home фото

Jimmy hadn't told her much about what he did in Vietnam. He said he couldn't because it was classified. All she knew from his letters was that after he'd been in Vietnam for four months, he'd gone to some special school there and that she shouldn't worry because he'd joined a different unit, one that didn't go out and fight like most.

The rest of his letters were just things like that he missed her or that he'd seen something interesting in Saigon. Sometimes he wrote about what he wanted to do once he got out of the Army. Sometimes, he just said he'd read her letter and thought she was doing a lot better than some of the wives of the men in his outfit. Janice didn't think he was writing what he felt. He was just writing things to put her mind at ease.

When Jimmy came home, her fears were realized. He seemed pretty distant, at least compared to how he'd been before. He did things with her and he talked about things that were happening at his job at the furniture plant or in the town, but there was always sort of a wall she couldn't breach.

For a while, Janice thought maybe they'd grown apart in the year that Jimmy had been gone. She'd seen that with other couples where the husband had gone overseas in the Army. That had resulted in a few divorces among the military couples she knew and had been caused by the couple needing the attentions of the opposite sex and finding that attention with men and women they weren't married to.

She knew of several military wives who took off their wedding rings and went to bars together to "just see what it felt like to have a man hit on me again". A few of those wives had responded to the attentions of the men who talked to them and ended up forming a relationship with one of those men. She knew of at least one wife who'd gotten pregnant while her husband was away. When her husband came home and saw her swollen belly, he went to a lawyer and filed for a divorce.

Sometimes it was the husband who strayed. Janice knew that around any military base there were many women who prostituted themselves, and she knew of one wife who'd gotten a letter from her husband saying that he'd gotten a venereal disease from a prostitute and asking if she'd forgive him. That had been enough for the wife to file for divorce.

Janice dismissed those ideas. She'd never been unfaithful to Jimmy and she knew he'd never been unfaithful to her. He'd written that he was afraid of what diseases a prostitute might give him so he just took care of things himself.

Janice finally figured out that that wall was what he'd done in Vietnam. Jimmy wouldn't talk about that ever. Janice wasn't worried about that because her father had fought in Europe in World War II and he would never talk about it either. What worried her so much about Jimmy was that he'd started drinking a lot, so much that he missed a day of work once in a while, and she was sure it was caused by something he'd done in Vietnam that he either wouldn't or couldn't tell her about.

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After six months and calling his boss three times to say that Jimmy had the flu or that he'd hurt his back, Janice had had enough. She sat Jimmy down on the couch one night when he came home from work and told him they couldn't keep going like they were.

"Jimmy, you need help and beer isn't the help you need. I've tried, but I can't seem to get through to you. I don't understand that. If you can't tell me, the wife who waited and worried about you for a year, who can you tell? Tell me who I can call and I'll call them. If you can't at least let me help you that way, I can't live with you anymore."

Jimmy had looked away then.

"I can't tell you what's wrong. You wouldn't believe me. Nobody would."

Janice touched Jimmy's hand.

"Jimmy, if it's me, just tell me. Maybe I changed in the year you were gone. I got used to doing everything myself. If you don't like that, I'll stop."

"No, it's not you. You're the same."

"Then what is it?"

Jimmy looked up and Janice saw tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I can't tell you everything, not now, maybe never."

Janice squeezed his hand.

"Let's start with what you can tell me, OK? We'll work our way from there."

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Jimmy didn't tell Janice much that night. All he said what that he'd lost some friends in Vietnam. He said what was bothering him was that he hadn't been able to say good-bye or anything. They'd just died and left him alone.

Janice stroked Jimmy's arm.

"Jimmy, when you were in Vietnam, I went to the base to a support group for wives of men in Vietnam. There were several wives there who said their husbands missed the men in their unit who were killed over there. They said it's normal, and that it would get easier if you talked about it."

Jimmy looked up at her then.

"I don't just miss them. I see them when I'm asleep. See, I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

"So that's why you drink so much?"

Jimmy nodded.

"If I'm drunk, I don't see them and I can sleep."

Janice put her arms around Jimmy's neck.

"Jimmy, I don't know if I can help you with this or not. Maybe you should go to the VA and talk to somebody there."

Jimmy shook his head.

"One of the guys at work did that. The shrink talked to him for an hour and then gave him a prescription for something to help him sleep. He went back a few more times, but said it didn't help. The VA is just more government crap, just like the Army. Over there, it was all about how many VC we killed, not about how many of us got wounded or killed. All they care about is being able to say they did something."

Janice eased away a little and looked Jimmy in the eyes.

"Are you saying you want me to leave?"

Jimmy wiped his eyes.

"No, Janice. That would kill me."

Janice smiled.

"Then let's just take it one day at a time. If you dream about those guys tell me about it. Maybe that will help."

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Over the next months Jimmy did tell Janice what had happened, though it was in bits and pieces a little at a time. He started with what happened when he first arrived in Vietnam.

Jimmy had arrived in Vietnam like most new soldiers did -- full of confidence instilled by Infantry AIT and the 101st Airborne Air Assault School. He was also just as full of fear that now it wasn't just a game played out in front of the instructors where the worst that could happen was you'd get your ass chewed if you screwed up. This was reality, and the reality was that if you didn't keep your shit wired tight, you'd be wounded or come home in an aluminum coffin.

Jimmy had done well for an "FNG" -- a Fucking New Guy as the soldiers with more time in country called the new replacements. He'd held up his end on patrols as well as defending the compound where he was based. After two months in country, Jimmy had done so well that when his assistant squad leader was severely wounded during a firefight, the Second Lieutenant in charge of the rifle platoon had made Jimmy the assistant squad leader and promoted him from PFC to Corporal. Two weeks later, the squad leader had been killed during an attempt by the Viet Cong to overrun their compound. Jimmy's platoon leader had made him the squad leader and gave him the temporary rank of Sergeant.

After Jimmy's first few patrols and firefights as a squad leader, the Second Lieutenant in charge of Jimmy's platoon recommended he be sent to the MACV Recondo School in Nha Trang. Jimmy didn't know what that school was, but it had to be better than sweating his ass off walking through rice paddies and worrying about getting killed. Jimmy had completed the three-week course and had received high recommendations from the instructors.

From there he was transferred to what Jimmy just called a special team of the 101st Airborne Division. His squad consisted of six men, all of which had been through Recondo School. Two of those men were Roy Arnold and Terry Madison. They were career soldiers who wore the Army Ranger patch. Roy was a Staff Sergeant and served as the team leader. Terry was a Sergeant and was the assistant team leader. Jimmy was placed in the position of Senior Scout Observer with the rank of Corporal. The other three members of the team were a Scout Observer, a RadioTelephone Operator, and an Assistant RadioTelephone Operator.

When Janice asked Jimmy what that mission was, he said he couldn't tell her. When she asked why, Jimmy stood up and walked to the kitchen for another beer.

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Janice was happy that Jimmy had told her at least something, but she knew there was more, more that he'd experienced that had changed him. Now that Jimmy seemed willing to talk to her about at least a little of his experience, Janice didn't push him. She figured Jimmy would keep talking if all she did was listen. If she pushed him for more, he'd stop.

She didn't start finding out the rest until the first Memorial Day after Jimmy came back home. She didn't find out much on that Memorial Day except for some idea of what was bothering her husband.

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It was at breakfast the first of May that year that year that Jimmy said he was thinking of going to Arlington National Cemetery on Memorial Day. Janice figured that had something to do with what was bothering Jimmy, so she didn't question him. All she asked was if she could come with him. Jimmy said he thought that would be all right, but she couldn't go to some of the places he wanted to go. Janice didn't understand, but she agreed.

That first Memorial Day would be forever burned in to her mind. Jimmy didn't say much while they made the two-hour drive from their home in Virginia, just that he'd written to Arlington and had gotten a map of what there was to see.

Their visit didn't start out bad. They first went to the Welcome Center where Janice picked up another map and took Jimmy's picture as he stood in front of the building. After that, they went to President Kennedy's grave site where Janice took Jimmy's picture again. Jimmy seemed to be enjoying himself and it made Janice proud to know that maybe it was because of her that he seemed happy.

They visited the Memorial Amphitheater and Jimmy was still his normal, quiet self. I was when they walked outside to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier that Janice noticed the change. Jimmy looked at the monument but didn't say anything until Janice said it was almost time for the changing of the guard ceremony. She took Jimmy by the arm and led him to where they could watch.

Janice had never really been around any military ceremony, so she was both impressed by the ceremony as well as saddened by the reason for it. When the ceremony was over, she turned to Jimmy to tell him how she felt. She didn't get any words to come out of her mouth though. Jimmy was standing there with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Janice put her hand on his arm and asked Jimmy what was wrong. He pushed her hand away and said he'd just gotten some dust in his eye. Then, without saying anything, he turned and started walking away. Janice caught up with him and together they walked along the paths through the rows upon rows of white headstones.

Janice saw Jimmy looking at the map of Arlington he'd brought with him. Janice hadn't seen the map open before then, but on that map were three circles and some numbers. She asked Jimmy what the circles and numbers meant and he said they were just places he wanted to see.

Jimmy stopped at a sign that said "Section 57" and turned to Janice. After telling her to stay where she was, he walked down the row of headstones, looking at each, and then stopping in front of one a few yards from where she stood. Janice watched as Jimmy bowed his head. She saw his lips moving, but didn't hear any sound.

After Jimmy came back to her side, Janice asked him what he'd been doing. When he looked up to answer her, Janice saw tears in his eyes again and when he spoke, his voice had a quaver she'd never heard before.

Jimmy just said he was saying goodbye to Roy, and Janice understood then why Jimmy had wanted to visit Arlington. Roy must have been the Roy Arnold that Jimmy had told her about and he'd been buried at Arlington.

Jimmy started walking again and Janice followed him until he stopped once more and asked her to stay where she was. It was the same as at the first grave. Jimmy walked down the row of headstones until stopping and standing there with his head bowed. Like before, his lips moved but Janice didn't hear him say anything.

When he came back, Janice asked Jimmy who he'd been talking to. Jimmy wiped his eyes and said it was Terry Madison, another name he'd told Janice.

Jimmy did the same thing at one other gravesite, and the name he told Janice wasn't one she'd heard him say before. She asked who the man was, and Jimmy said he was another member of his squad in Vietnam named Hal. Then he said he was ready to leave.

Jimmy didn't say anything on the drive home and Janice didn't try to ask him any questions. She kept wondering if she'd heard Jimmy right. What she'd heard was that he'd been a member of a squad that sounded to her like lurps. She knew that sometimes Army units had odd names, and she wondered if he'd said "burps". After they had dinner, though, she smiled a Jimmy.

"Jimmy, you said those men were part of your lurps squad. I never heard you say that word before. What is a lurps squad?"

Janice sat there and looked at Jimmy for almost a minute. She could tell he was struggling with the need to talk but the unwillingness to do so. Finally, she smiled.

"Well, maybe you'll tell me some day. I made a cake yesterday. Want a piece for dessert?"

Jimmy had looked up at her with a frown on his face and asked her why she wanted to know. Janice put her hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"Because, Jimmy, I watched you cry at three tombstones today and I know that's why you wanted to go there. If you can't tell me, that's OK. If you want to tell me, I'll be here to listen."

Jimmy looked up at her and said he thought he'd have a beer instead of cake. Janice thought he'd probably get his beer and go into the living room to watch television. She was surprised when he came back to the table and sat down.

She was even more surprised when he said he could tell her a little about it.

What followed was pretty short, but by putting what Jimmy said and what she already knew, she had a better idea of what her husband had gone through when he was in Vietnam.

"It sounds like lurps, but it isn't spelled like that. It's spelled LRRP and it stands for Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol."

Jimmy then went on to explain.

A LRRP squad didn't work like the normal, everyday soldiers. They were largely successful in their missions because they worked in exactly the same way the VC did. Jimmy said that's what they learned in the special school he'd gone to.

They were ghosts in the jungle, moving from place to place without being seen, heard, or leaving any trace of their presence behind. The purpose of a LRRP unit was to avoid the enemy having any knowledge they were in the area while doing reconnaissance of enemy positions, troop strength, and armament.

They didn't walk anything resembling a trail. Trails were almost certain to have boobytraps, and were often watched by the VC or by villagers who either were VC or were too afraid of the VC to not tell them everything they saw. Walking on a trail was a sure way to draw enemy fire or suffer one soldier or more severely injured by some home-made boobytrap.

Though they did carry a radio in case they needed air support or to be evacuated, radio communication was limited to "breaking squelch" at specific intervals. That involved just keying the transmit button on the radio for about one second. What the radio operator on the other end heard was a one-second break in the normal static coming through his headphones. One break meant the squad was OK. The one-second break of squelch was too short for the VC to triangulate their position. If they were in trouble, they'd use the radio to request extraction or some additional fire power.

Their rations weren't the packaged rations regular infantry units carried. Instead, they carried only balls of cooked rice, the same rations the VC carried. This prevented the LRRP team from being spotted in two ways.

Pre-packaged rations always had trash that had to be disposed of. To a VC soldier, seeing even a gum wrapper on the jungle floor meant there were US soldiers in the area.

The other reason was the standard Army rations required heat to be palatable. Any type of fire would either generate smoke that would be seen or smelled, or would leave a telltale burn mark on the ground for at least a few days. Balls of rice eaten cold furnished enough calories to maintain strength over a typical five or six day mission without leaving any sign behind.

Smoking was prohibited on a patrol for the same reason. To a VC soldier who'd grown up in the jungle, an American cigarette butt would give the squad away just as quickly as if they'd walked through the jungle singing the US Army song. Smokers made do with a pinch of Skoal between cheek and gum.

Noise was kept to a minimum by taping down any gear that might make any sound and by walking slowly while stopping and listening a lot. Directions were given by using practiced hand signals, or if they were certain there were no other people around, whispered conversation.

Jimmy said that was all he could tell Janice, and then went to the kitchen for another beer. This time, he did go the to living room. When Janice sat down on the couch beside him, Jimmy was watching a comedy show, but he wasn't laughing or even smiling. He was just sitting there.

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Janice had watched the news every night that Jimmy was in Vietnam, so she'd already seen and heard about what the soldiers there had to endure. Now that Jimmy had told her about what he'd done, she could imagine that while he'd written that he felt safer, in reality, he probably was in more danger than if he'd just stayed in the infantry.

She could imagine a group of six men walking through the jungle, a jungle they knew very little about but a jungle the enemy knew better than they knew almost anything else. It would be like her walking down a dark alley in the worst section of town at one in the morning and knowing that six other women had been found dead in that same alley.

She moved closer to Jimmy and held his hand until the show ended. Jimmy said he was going to bed then, so Janice shut off the lights and television and went to their bedroom. When she got there, Jimmy was already in bed and rolled onto his side.

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Over the next five months, Janice never questioned Jimmy more about Vietnam, but she watched him and listened when he did want to talk. That was because it seemed as if going to Arlington had helped Jimmy. He'd stopped drinking every night and hadn't missed a day of work since then. True, he still did drink a few beers on Friday and Saturday night, but those nights were the nights when he relaxed enough to talk more.

 

Over those months, Jimmy's story came out of him a little at a time, and as it did, Janice felt more for him than she had when they were first married. It was like he was carrying a huge load in his mind, and as he let it out, a little at a time, she started to see both the man she'd married and the man who'd been wounded by a war. The wounds weren't visible, but they were still there. Janice both felt for the pain Jimmy had and felt happy that he'd started to open up that place in his mind where he'd hidden away those wounds.

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Jimmy told her he'd been on several missions with his squad and they'd been successful in them all except for one. Most of those missions were scouting missions. They'd be dropped by helicopter at night into an area thought to be held by the VC and spend a week trying to find their location and strength.

More often than not, that location was a local village because the VC weren't the regular North Vietnamese Army. They were guerilla fighters who lived as normal civilian villagers during the day, but went out at night in search of US and South Vietnamese troops and bases.

They'd identified these locations by hiding in the brush where they could observe the villagers coming and going. On that mission and on others, Jimmy's squad had hidden in cover close enough to a trail that the VC were only a few meters away when they walked down that trail on their way to attack a US military firebase.

It was on his last mission that things had gone wrong. Jimmy's voice was quiet and he stopped talking from time to time.

"The mission was to find and then watch an area suspected of holding a VC munitions dump and if we saw proof that that was the case, we were supposed to radio the coordinates back to our unit command center. The command center would then request an Air Force bombing run and then an infantry raid to clean up any survivors and blow up any remaining munitions and supplies.

"We found the place and set up on a hill overlooking a village that was there. We knew it was the right place because we kept seeing these guys who looked like Vietnamese farmers carrying sacks into one hooch. Must have been at least a dozen went in before any came back out. A hooch wasn't big enough to hold that many men so that usually meant there was a tunnel entrance in that hooch.

"Well, we kept watching and about an hour later about twenty other guys went in the hooch. When they came back out they were carrying AK's and ammunition pouches and grenades. They formed up and started walking a trail toward one of our firebases.

"That trail was only about ten meters from where we were hiding in some tall brush. We held our breath until the last one passed. We gave him a good hour and then decided what we should do. Our orders were to radio the coordinates of the village back to the command center, but we decided that was a really dumb-shit thing to do. We had VC somewhere ahead of us and probably more VC behind us. All we needed was for some VC guy walking rear guard or point to hear us making that radio call. All hell would have broken loose then and five rifles and a grenade launcher can't do much against twenty with AK47's and RPG's. We decided to go about two clicks south and then radio in the location and request extraction.

"We made it to a spot big enough for a landing zone and set up a defensive perimeter while Bill, our Radio Operator made the radio call. I don't know what the hell happened, but as soon as Bill sent the coordinates of the village, we started taking fire.

"Because we'd stopped at a clearing big enough for a Huey to land in, there wasn't much cover. Bill went down so Hal, our Assistant Radio Operator crawled over to Bill, grabbed the radio, and called in our location and asked for a gunship and a pickup. Hal had been through the special ops medic training, so he checked on Bill, but then looked up and shook his head.

The rest of us were laying down fire into the brush around us. As soon as we'd get the incoming rounds stopped in one place, they would start coming in from some other place.

"Jamie Royce, this eighteen year old kid from Topeka, Kansas and our Assistant Observer got hit next. Jamie was laying beside me, so I stopped firing long enough to put a field dressing on his chest wound, but he'd stopped breathing before I got done.

"It was probably only a few minutes, but it seemed like hours before we heard jets overhead and then heard the explosions back in that village. The shooting stopped then. I figured the VC ran so I crawled over to Terry, Roy, and Hal, the three of our team besides me that were left.

"We decided to sit it out. We weren't going to leave Jamie and Bill there in the grass and we couldn't carry them and fight at the same time. A while later we heard a Huey overhead, so Terry popped white smoke to let the guncrew know where we were. The door gunners pretty much shredded everything for ten meters around us and then kept flying around while a Medevac sat down about six meters from us. Two guys from the Medevac came running to the smoke and carried Jamie and Bill back. We jumped on after that and flew back to our command center.

Janice held Jimmy's hand.

"Jimmy, I can't imagine what that must have been like. At least you came home to me."

Jimmy pulled his hand away and wiped the tears from his eyes. His voice was broken.

"You don't understand. You'll never understand."

Jimmy stood up and went to the kitchen for a beer then. Janice waited for him to come back to the couch, but he sat down in his chair.

Janice sighed. What did Jimmy think she didn't understand? She understood that he'd been afraid he was going to die. She understood that he'd lost two of his team. She understood that he probably missed them. What else was there to understand?

Janice decided she had to get Jimmy to tell her what he didn't think she'd understand because he wouldn't be right until he did. She walked over to Jimmy's chair and knelt down to face him.

"Jimmy, what don't I understand? You're right that I won't understand unless you tell me. I've watched you go from impossible to live with to almost the man I married. Now, I think you've gone back some. Tell me, and I won't say anything until you're done."

Jimmy frowned.

"You won't like it and you won't believe me."

Janice nodded. I might not like it, but why wouldn't I believe you?"

Jimmy sat the beer on the table beside his chair, and then held Janice's hand.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to leave me?"

Janice squeezed Jimmy's hand.

"Jimmy, if I was going to leave you, I'd have done it a long time ago."

Jimmy took a deep breath.

"My team didn't go out again before they sent me home. We had to train two guys to take Roy and Bill's place. I thought we were all safe until one night Terry and I were in a bunker watching the compound fence. All of a sudden, we started taking fire from the trees. Terry and I were returning fire when this VC grenade came through the slot we were looking out of. It fell down in front of Terry so we both jumped to the side. Terry landed on top of me and took all the shrapnel from the grenade. I felt him jerk and then die. Hal got hit that night too. He made it to Saigon, but died while they were operating on him."

Janice squeezed Jimmy's hand a little tighter.

"I understand why you're so sad about that, Jimmy. You lost four men who were your friends."

Jimmy shook his head.

"That's not what you won't understand."

Jimmy wiped the tears from his eyes again and his voice was angry.

"I'm the only one left besides Roy and I don't think that's fair. I didn't get to tell them goodbye or anything. I should have died with the rest of my team. Instead, they gave me a bronze star for what I did when we were ambushed.

"There's something else too. Before we went to Arlington, I started hearing them. I'd be at work and I'd hear Terry or Bill or Jamie or Hal talking to me. Since then, I hear them all the time. I know it's not really them. They're just in my head, but I don't know how to get them out."

Now, Janice understood.

"That's why we went to Arlington, isn't it? You wanted to talk to them."

Jimmy nodded.

"I thought it might help. It did a little."

"Did they say anything back?"

"Yes, they all told me the same thing. They told me they were waiting on me to come home, but that I still had things to do so I shouldn't hurry."

Janice breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been afraid that the voices might tell Jimmy to do something to hurt himself. Instead, they'd told him not to. Maybe that was a way she could help Jimmy be himself again.

"Jimmy, I believe you. I don't know if they're all in your head or not either. Maybe since you were so close over there, something happened that let you hear them. I've read about people who can do that."

Jimmy looked up at Janice.

"You don't think I'm crazy?""

Janice smiled.

"You're no more crazy than half the people I know and I'm not real sure about the other half."

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Little by little, Jimmy came to grips with the memories and the voices. He joined the American Legion and kept the memories locked away unless he was with other veterans. Over a beer or two with them, some old enough to be his father and had fought in WWII or Korea, he learned that he wasn't alone. From those men, he learned it was possible to go on with life while still remembering his fallen friends. When one of those WWII vets passed away, Jimmy took his place on the Legion Post color guard.

Jimmy only talked about the voices with Janice, and he always said they told him they were waiting for him to come home, but that he still had things to do.

Those things turned out to be several promotions at his job until he was managing the department in the furniture factory where he'd started working after he came back from Vietnam. The promotions let Jimmy and Janice buy a house in the suburbs so they could raise a family. That family was the son and daughter, Walt and Melody, he and Janice had.

He went on Boy Scout camping trips with Walt and taught the scouts how to walk through and camp in the woods without leaving many traces that they'd been there. Jimmy took Melody to the father/daughter dance in junior high and when Melody won a spot on her high school cheerleading team, Jimmy went to every football and basketball game to watch her cheer.

Every Memorial Day, he'd load his family in the car and make the drive to Arlington. When they were old enough to understand, he'd explain the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the guard pacing back and forth. Then, they'd walk down the paths to first three and later four gravesites. Roy had stayed in the Army and had been killed in Grenada.

Jimmy's family stayed behind on the walkway while he visited each grave. Janice would stay with their children and explain that their father was honoring the men in the graves he visited and why that was important.

Jimmy was proud when his son enlisted in the US Army and served in the Gulf War. Walt decided four years was enough, got out and went to college to become an engineer. Four years later, Jimmy hugged his daughter in law, Grace, and told her he was proud to have a former Army nurse as his daughter in law.

Three years later, Jimmy walked his daughter, Melody, down the aisle and gave her away to a man wearing the uniform of a police officer. Jimmy told her that she'd picked a great man in Bobby for a husband. Clara laughed and said she had to pick him because Bobby was so much like Jimmy.

The years after that were a little lonely for Jimmy and Janice, but their kids lived close enough the house in the suburbs was filled every holiday. Once Jimmy and Janice became grandparents to six grandkids, it was filled with the high-pitched cackles of children having a good time hunting Easter eggs at Easter and opening packages at Christmas.

The only holiday that was different was Memorial Day. Jimmy couldn't fit twelve people into his car, but Walt and Melody weren't about to give up what had become a family ritual. Every Memorial Day, three cars would make the trip to Arlington, and every Memorial Day, Jimmy's family would wait on the walkway while Jimmy walked to the four graves. Walt and Melody explained to their children why it was important to show honor and respect for the men and women who were buried there.

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Jimmy retired at the age of sixty-six because he'd had a few chest pains the year before. His doctor said Jimmy should take those pains seriously and ease up on what he was doing. Jimmy did start taking it easier then. He spent his time keeping the house and yard looking great, and also doing a little of the same things he'd done when he first started working at the furniture company. He built a set of lawn furniture and then a few birdhouses.

When Jimmy was seventy, he had to start using a cane. His doctor said he could replace Jimmy's right hip, but Jimmy said he was doing OK with his cane.

The cane didn't stop Jimmy from taking his family to Arlington every Memorial Day. It took longer to walk the walkways to each grave, but Janice and the rest of his family understood. They'd walk to a row of headstones and then wait patiently while Jimmy stood at each grave for a few minutes.

It was the fourth of January after Jimmy turned seventy-six that he told Janice he was short of breath and his left arm and chest hurt. Janice called 911.

When the emergency room doctor came out to talk to Janice, he was frowning, and Janice knew that couldn't be good. When he told her what had happened, Janice felt a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes.

"Mrs. Mayhew, while we were trying to stabilize your husband, he went into cardiac arrest. We tried everything we could to bring him back, but unfortunately, we lost him. I'm so sorry for your loss."

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The funeral was held at graveside at Arlington National Cemetery. Alice and her children and grandchildren stood with their heads bowed while the Army Chaplain gave a recounting of Jimmy's service and then looked up at the people sitting in front of the casket.

"Friends and family of Sergeant Jimmy Mayhew, I could tell you about his bronze star and I could tell you about all the things he did to make life for his family the best he could. I could tell you that Sergeant Mayhew is now at rest and would want you to go on with your lives and that would be a true statement, but Sergeant Mayhew deserves a better elegy than that. Instead, I'd like to share with you the last few lines of a poem called, 'A Soldier Died Today', written by A. Lawrence Vaincourt, a Canadian writer and veteran."

He was just a common Soldier,

And his ranks are growing thin,

But his presence should remind us

We may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict,

We find the Soldier's part

Is to clean up all the troubles

That the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor

While he's here to hear the praise,

Then at least let's give him homage

At the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline

In the paper that might say:

"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,

A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."

Janice rode back home in her son's car, clutching the flag the officer had given her after a trumpet player played "Taps". Jimmy had gone home, home to the friends he'd left behind so many years ago in a war most people didn't even remember much less care about.

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On Memorial Day, 2024, Janice stood in front of the small headstone with, "James A. Mayhew, Virginia, SGT, US Army, Vietnam, September 10,1950, January 5, 2017, BRONZE STAR"

Her voice was soft, so soft the two men holding her steady couldn't really make out the words.

"Well, Jimmy, I've been hearing you lately in my head. I always believed you when you said you heard your friends talking to you. I just never thought it could happen to me. I guess your time in Vietnam brought us so close together that when I think about you, I can hear you.

"I made the arrangements last month, and when my time comes, I'll come home to you and your friends right here.

"I'm not in a hurry. You remember Walt's girl Cindy? She got married last year and we're going to be great grandparents in about four months. She's going to name him James and she told me she was trying to have her little boy on your birthday. I need to stay here so I can hold him and tell him all about his great grandpa.

"Isn't that something? We had to wait until our kids were born to find out if it was a boy or a girl. Now they know months before the baby is born. I guess that's called progress. I kind of liked not knowing.

"Well, Jimmy, the flag they gave me at your funeral is still in the case over the mantle that I had made for it, and one of Melody's boys made a little case for your bronze star in his junior high school shop class and it's up there too. Bill seems to like working with his hands, and he comes over on the weekends to use your tools. He's pretty good, but then, he has part of you in him.

"Silly me, I know I've told you all this before. I tend to repeat myself all the time anymore. I guess that's what they call old age creeping up on me. I don't feel all that old except for this hip, but I imagine I've told you that before too.

"I better leave you now, Jimmy, because standing still is getting hard to do, but remember that I'm coming home too, coming home to you to be with you forever. I love you, Jimmy. I always have and I always will."

Epilogue

This story is about one soldier and Arlington National Cemetery, but it's really a call to honor on this Memorial Day the over 1,300,000 men and women who answered the call of their country and have since passed on. As has been quoted in one form or another by many individuals, "Freedom is not free", and that's true. Being free requires paying an unthinkable price in blood.

It started in 1776 and continues to this day. About 400,000 of those men and women are interred at Arlington, along with the wives of some of our fallen soldiers. That's fitting, because while those wives didn't put on a uniform and take up a rifle, flew a plane or stood watch on a Navy destroyer or aircraft carrier, they served all the same. Instead of a uniform, they wore pants and shirts instead of dresses, and they took the places of the men gone off to war and did a "man's job" while keeping families together and fed. They are as much veterans as the men who fought the enemy with everything they had and some things they didn't realize they had until they needed them.

Three unknown soldiers from WWI, WWII, and the Korean War lie in graves at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Their remains were randomly selected from remains returned to the US but for whom identification was not possible. There is no unknown soldier from the Vietnam War interred there. One set of remains from the Vietnam War was formerly buried there, but the remains were later identified by using modern forensics and removed to another grave. Instead, an empty grave there honors the men and women who served in that war. Because of technology it is highly unlikely that in any future war there will be remains classified as "Unknown".

It may surprise some that most of those 1,300,000 veterans are not buried in our most famous national cemetery. They take their eternal rest in cemeteries all over the world, from Pusan, South Korea to Ardennes, Belgium, from Metro Manila, Philippines to Carthage, Tunisia. There are many in cities and towns across the US, from Battleground National Cemetery in Washington, DC, to Beaufort, South Carolina where lie the remains of 9,000 Union soldiers killed in battle, 2,800 Union soldiers who died as prisoner's of war, and 1,700 Union African/American soldiers.

As of the last accounting, 6,329 WWII sailors were buried at sea. That number does not include the 1,177 crew members listed as "missing in action and unaccounted for" interred inside the USS Arizona who were killed during the attack on Pearl Harbor, or the number of surviving crew members who chose to have their ashes placed inside the broken and battered hull with the remains of their shipmates. It also does not include the number of men lost when their ship was sunk and are still listed as "missing in action".

 

Lest we forget them, there are still over 85,000 servicemen missing, 74,750 from WWII, 7,422 from the Korean War, and 1,584 from Vietnam. It is difficult to estimate the number of missing from WWI because of the nature of that war. In most cases where remains have been found, it's nearly impossible to separate them further than possibly the unit to which they belonged. Accurate record keeping of that time is also a problem.

Most of the US MIA's are presumably dead by now, and are resting in unknown and unmarked locations. That number keeps changing as remains continue to be unearthed, identified, and returned to their families. It is not likely all of them will ever be recovered. They will pass into history as the unfound dead remembered only by the families they left behind.

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Most of us won't get to Arlington this Memorial Day if we ever visit it at all. Some won't visit because of the time required and the distance. Some won't visit because the concept of war horrifies them and going there might seem like they honor war. Unfortunately, some won't visit so as to not miss the first backyard barbecue party of the year. All the decades of relative peace in the world have turned some of us into people who are more concerned with themselves than with those who made it possible for us to live like we do.

On this most special of special holidays and no matter your personal political beliefs, take the time to do a little research, find the nearest National Cemetery and take the trip.

Take the family with you. Show them the American Flag flying in he wind and explain what those colors, stripes, and stars stand for. Unfortunately, they may not have learned that in school. Explain why those headstones are there and what those headstones mean. Read the headstones and bow your head to give your respect and thanks to the men and women who lie silently beneath the grass. If you know of a relative who rests in a grave marked by one such headstone, tell the story to your family that they can repeat it to their families. Too many such tales are lost in the failing memories of those who lived through those times.

Nothing can ever repay them for their sacrifice, but recognizing their sacrifice honors the men and women who gave everything they had to give when the times required them to do so. The names on those headstones are the names of real people who rest there because they chose to serve a higher calling than themselves.

I leave you with some quotes about our veterans that apply to all veterans from 1776 to the present day.

"We sleep safely at night because rough men stand ready to visit violence on those who would harm us." -- Winston Churchill and others

"A veteran is someone who, at one point in life,

wrote a blank check made payable 'To My Country'

for an amount 'up to and including my life'.

That is Honor, and there are way too many people in

this country who no longer understand it." - Gene Castagnetti, the director of the Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific

"In war there are no unwounded soldiers." - Jose Narosky

"It doesn't take a hero to order men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle." -- General H. Norman Schwarzkopf

"Those who have long enjoyed such privileges as we enjoy forget in time that men have died to win them." - Franklin D. Roosevelt

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