Playing Soldier & The Real Thing - Our Veterans Through The Eyes of A Six Year Old Boy
This essay previously published 5/02/2005, by me elsewhere on the internet.
When we were kids, my brother and I were crazy about playing army. We didn’t play cowboys and Indians. That was for sissies. We played army. We thought of ourselves as hardcore soldiers. Our favorite TV shows were Combat and Hogan’s Heroes. My brother and I had the helmets, the toy rifles the canteens, we used branches and twigs for camouflage and mom would get upset if we used her green eye shadow and black mascara to paint our faces. Any rock or dirt clod was well suited and served as a hand grenade. If we ran out of grenades we would simply pick up a “Potato Masher” grenade that had been thrown at us by a Jerry. By pulling on a handful of long grass, we were able to pull up the roots of the grass with a dirt clod on the end. This served as the “Potato Masher” grenade that we threw back at the Jerry machine gun nest we were to overrun. The hills behind our home became our battlefield. One day we would walk out the back door and we were on Guadalcanal. The next day we were at Normandy. We saw many days of battle.
Because I was the youngest of all our friends and of all the boys in the family, (Girls weren't allowed on the battlefield) I wasn’t always happy with my role in some of our games. My older brother, my cousin, and their friends were always Americans. Sometimes I had to be a Jap or a Jerry. Sometimes I was a POW. One day I protested and I demanded that I wanted to be an American soldier. They said OK. So, I played an American POW. They were the Jerrys that day. I never got a weapon. It was wrong!
Those days are remembered fondly by all of us.
Unbeknownst to us, there was much turmoil and unrest on the social scene during those days. Mom and my step dad were able to shelter us from the nightly news. Little did we know that another war was raging in a place we had never heard of called Viet Nam. People called ‘Hippies’ were protesting the war and they were so angry with our soldiers, that they were downright ugly and disrespectful of our soldiers. The Zodiac killer was in the news and had the San Francisco Bay Area paralyzed with fear. The Black Panthers were in the news too. There was much unrest that we as kids were not even aware of. The only thing we knew is that American soldiers, our heroes, in the form of Astronauts had walked on the moon, and were planning other missions in the Apollo space program.
We didn’t know of Viet Nam. As far as my brother and I were concerned, all soldiers were to be looked up to, they were heroes and our nation had been victorious in WWII. The Japanese and Germans were still the enemy, and when we played war with our friends, none of us wanted to be a stinking Jap or lowdown Jerry when we played army. This is the way it was. We got to be kids, unburdened with the ugliness of the outside world.
In 1971 I was but a naive six your old kid. My older brother was eight. As we did every summer, we hopped a flight aboard the now defunct PSA airlines from Oakland to Phoenix. My brother and I were going to see my dad. Our folks had divorced a few years earlier and my dad got us for two weeks over the summer.
As we were about to get onto our plane, my brother and I walked across the tarmac escorted by a stewardess. We always thought the stewardesses were pretty. The stewardess assisted us as we climbed the stairs to the plane and she showed us to our seats. She made sure that we were buckled us in. My brother got the window, and I was in the middle seat. We could look out the window and see our mom waiting for the plane to take off as she waved at us. We waved back.
I remember sitting on the plane as we waited to leave the gate to take off. That was always exciting. My brother and I looked up, and we saw a soldier making his way down the isle. He must have been a general or something, because he had a chest full of colorful ribbons. At least that is what we thought. He was an old guy too. Probably even older than 20! He was tall, and he was black, just like Reggie Jackson of the Oakland A’s was black. We hadn’t seen too many black people in our time. But now we had a black guy who was a soldier coming down the isle. Then, he sat down next to us! Way cool! A real army guy and black like Reggie Jackson to boot! All we knew was that if this guy was black, a soldier, and had a chest full of ribbons, he had to be a hero and a general! We were dumbfounded. We became shy, and we couldn’t look at him. This guy had to have killed hundred of Japs and Jerrys. We didn’t know how to react.
After a while, the plane took off and soon the pretty stewardess came around with drinks. I remember I took a Coke. My brother did too. I also remember that my brother had a knack at cracking me up at just the right moment when I was taking a drink, so that Coke would squirt out my nose. As it would so happen, my brother pulled his stunt and as usual, I cracked up and the Coke came out of my nose. A large, strong, dark hand appeared in front of me with a napkin. I remember I sheepishly took the napkin from the man and I thanked the man, and then wiped the Coke from my face and shirt. I remember I got up the courage and I looked up at the man and asked, “Are you a real army man?”
“Yes, I am.” He said with a hint of a smile.
My brother asked, “Are all those ribbons and medals on your chest from killin’ Japs n’ Jerrys?”
“No”, he said. “I got these from doing other things in the army. I never killed a Jap or a Jerry.” He went on, “Don’t you boys know it’s rude to ask a soldier if he’s killed someone in battle? Killing enemy soldiers is hurtful to some American soldiers. Those enemy soldiers have wives and little boys just like you.”
“We didn’t mean to do any thing wrong.” My brother replied.
The soldier replied, “Of course not, son. I’m just pointing out some good manners for you to use later, when you see another soldier. Thank him for being brave, for being a hero, and for protecting you. That’s his job and he’s glad to do it. But, don’t ask him about the ugly things of war, like killing. That’s private and some soldiers feel sad that they had to do it even when it was necessary. OK?” The soldier smiled at us.
My brother and I made chit-chat with the soldier for the rest of the flight. As we landed in Phoenix and taxied to the gate, the soldier took off two ribbons from his chest and he pinned one on my brother and one on me. As the stewardess took us off the plane before the rest of the passengers, we said goodbye to our soldier friend. We puffed our chests out with pride. We had an honest for goodness medal, from an honest to goodness, real soldier pinned on our chests!
Our encounter with an American military man made a profound impact in my life. I learned a valuable lesson from him. I learned to always be grateful for the service to our country these fine men and women provide to our nation. I learned what not to ask a soldier, so that I would never hurt his feelings. I learned war causes pain to our soldiers, for some of the tasks that they must undertake while fighting wars, I learned that war is ugly. As ugly as war is, I now know that it is a necessary evil.
That day on the plane took place 35 years ago. It has stuck with me for a very long time. Every so often I think of that soldier and wonder how his life has been. I wonder if he remembers two kids on a plane to Phoenix and if he’d be happy to know that he made a positive impact in our lives. He taught us to appreciate soldiers and to understand the human side of a soldier, if just a little bit.
To him, and to all other soldiers who have served in war and in peace, I share another lesson taught to me by that soldier on the plane,
To always stop and thank a soldier for their service to our country.
Please pray for our soldiers.
Copyright 05/02/2005-08 by Randy Williams Use granted to all who identify author
When we were kids, my brother and I were crazy about playing army. We didn’t play cowboys and Indians. That was for sissies. We played army. We thought of ourselves as hardcore soldiers. Our favorite TV shows were Combat and Hogan’s Heroes. My brother and I had the helmets, the toy rifles the canteens, we used branches and twigs for camouflage and mom would get upset if we used her green eye shadow and black mascara to paint our faces. Any rock or dirt clod was well suited and served as a hand grenade. If we ran out of grenades we would simply pick up a “Potato Masher” grenade that had been thrown at us by a Jerry. By pulling on a handful of long grass, we were able to pull up the roots of the grass with a dirt clod on the end. This served as the “Potato Masher” grenade that we threw back at the Jerry machine gun nest we were to overrun. The hills behind our home became our battlefield. One day we would walk out the back door and we were on Guadalcanal. The next day we were at Normandy. We saw many days of battle.
Because I was the youngest of all our friends and of all the boys in the family, (Girls weren't allowed on the battlefield) I wasn’t always happy with my role in some of our games. My older brother, my cousin, and their friends were always Americans. Sometimes I had to be a Jap or a Jerry. Sometimes I was a POW. One day I protested and I demanded that I wanted to be an American soldier. They said OK. So, I played an American POW. They were the Jerrys that day. I never got a weapon. It was wrong!
Those days are remembered fondly by all of us.
Unbeknownst to us, there was much turmoil and unrest on the social scene during those days. Mom and my step dad were able to shelter us from the nightly news. Little did we know that another war was raging in a place we had never heard of called Viet Nam. People called ‘Hippies’ were protesting the war and they were so angry with our soldiers, that they were downright ugly and disrespectful of our soldiers. The Zodiac killer was in the news and had the San Francisco Bay Area paralyzed with fear. The Black Panthers were in the news too. There was much unrest that we as kids were not even aware of. The only thing we knew is that American soldiers, our heroes, in the form of Astronauts had walked on the moon, and were planning other missions in the Apollo space program.
We didn’t know of Viet Nam. As far as my brother and I were concerned, all soldiers were to be looked up to, they were heroes and our nation had been victorious in WWII. The Japanese and Germans were still the enemy, and when we played war with our friends, none of us wanted to be a stinking Jap or lowdown Jerry when we played army. This is the way it was. We got to be kids, unburdened with the ugliness of the outside world.
In 1971 I was but a naive six your old kid. My older brother was eight. As we did every summer, we hopped a flight aboard the now defunct PSA airlines from Oakland to Phoenix. My brother and I were going to see my dad. Our folks had divorced a few years earlier and my dad got us for two weeks over the summer.
As we were about to get onto our plane, my brother and I walked across the tarmac escorted by a stewardess. We always thought the stewardesses were pretty. The stewardess assisted us as we climbed the stairs to the plane and she showed us to our seats. She made sure that we were buckled us in. My brother got the window, and I was in the middle seat. We could look out the window and see our mom waiting for the plane to take off as she waved at us. We waved back.
I remember sitting on the plane as we waited to leave the gate to take off. That was always exciting. My brother and I looked up, and we saw a soldier making his way down the isle. He must have been a general or something, because he had a chest full of colorful ribbons. At least that is what we thought. He was an old guy too. Probably even older than 20! He was tall, and he was black, just like Reggie Jackson of the Oakland A’s was black. We hadn’t seen too many black people in our time. But now we had a black guy who was a soldier coming down the isle. Then, he sat down next to us! Way cool! A real army guy and black like Reggie Jackson to boot! All we knew was that if this guy was black, a soldier, and had a chest full of ribbons, he had to be a hero and a general! We were dumbfounded. We became shy, and we couldn’t look at him. This guy had to have killed hundred of Japs and Jerrys. We didn’t know how to react.
After a while, the plane took off and soon the pretty stewardess came around with drinks. I remember I took a Coke. My brother did too. I also remember that my brother had a knack at cracking me up at just the right moment when I was taking a drink, so that Coke would squirt out my nose. As it would so happen, my brother pulled his stunt and as usual, I cracked up and the Coke came out of my nose. A large, strong, dark hand appeared in front of me with a napkin. I remember I sheepishly took the napkin from the man and I thanked the man, and then wiped the Coke from my face and shirt. I remember I got up the courage and I looked up at the man and asked, “Are you a real army man?”
“Yes, I am.” He said with a hint of a smile.
My brother asked, “Are all those ribbons and medals on your chest from killin’ Japs n’ Jerrys?”
“No”, he said. “I got these from doing other things in the army. I never killed a Jap or a Jerry.” He went on, “Don’t you boys know it’s rude to ask a soldier if he’s killed someone in battle? Killing enemy soldiers is hurtful to some American soldiers. Those enemy soldiers have wives and little boys just like you.”
“We didn’t mean to do any thing wrong.” My brother replied.
The soldier replied, “Of course not, son. I’m just pointing out some good manners for you to use later, when you see another soldier. Thank him for being brave, for being a hero, and for protecting you. That’s his job and he’s glad to do it. But, don’t ask him about the ugly things of war, like killing. That’s private and some soldiers feel sad that they had to do it even when it was necessary. OK?” The soldier smiled at us.
My brother and I made chit-chat with the soldier for the rest of the flight. As we landed in Phoenix and taxied to the gate, the soldier took off two ribbons from his chest and he pinned one on my brother and one on me. As the stewardess took us off the plane before the rest of the passengers, we said goodbye to our soldier friend. We puffed our chests out with pride. We had an honest for goodness medal, from an honest to goodness, real soldier pinned on our chests!
Our encounter with an American military man made a profound impact in my life. I learned a valuable lesson from him. I learned to always be grateful for the service to our country these fine men and women provide to our nation. I learned what not to ask a soldier, so that I would never hurt his feelings. I learned war causes pain to our soldiers, for some of the tasks that they must undertake while fighting wars, I learned that war is ugly. As ugly as war is, I now know that it is a necessary evil.
That day on the plane took place 35 years ago. It has stuck with me for a very long time. Every so often I think of that soldier and wonder how his life has been. I wonder if he remembers two kids on a plane to Phoenix and if he’d be happy to know that he made a positive impact in our lives. He taught us to appreciate soldiers and to understand the human side of a soldier, if just a little bit.
To him, and to all other soldiers who have served in war and in peace, I share another lesson taught to me by that soldier on the plane,
To always stop and thank a soldier for their service to our country.
Please pray for our soldiers.
Copyright 05/02/2005-08 by Randy Williams Use granted to all who identify author
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