laserspeeddemon
20+ Year Contributor
- 6,717
- 61
- Jul 26, 2002
-
Fredericksburg,
Virginia
had a story I thought I'd share in honor of Memorial Day.
Both my father and I served in the US Army. Both of us have fought in a War. My father in the early 90's fought in Iraq during Operation: Desert Storm. I, myself, have just recently returned from Afghanistan, Operation: Enduring Freedom VIII-IX. And to boot my Grand Father as a child was living in Hawaii (being native Hawaiian) during the attack of Pearl Harbor. So you can say that War is in our lineage.
This weekend I went a visited my Dad in Virginia Beach, he lives REALLY close to Oceana NAS. All day long (and sometimes into the night) growing up I heard the F-18s flying over. My two sons, my father and I were at the dinner table eating Pizza in his tiny 800 sqft home. When another jet flew overhead, drowning out any and all noise in the house. After the roar of the afterburners decrescendoed into the distance, my youngest son; Caleb, goes "Wha da? pane?" (What's that? Plane?). My father responded "No, Freedom." He looks over at me and gives me a wink.
I've often thought of moments like this. As they played out in my mind, I was annoyed by how cheesy it sounds. But this time, two generations of war veterans that have spilt blood and bled in foreign lands in defense of our Beautiful Country; This time as it played out, it felt genuine.
Both my father and I served in the US Army. Both of us have fought in a War. My father in the early 90's fought in Iraq during Operation: Desert Storm. I, myself, have just recently returned from Afghanistan, Operation: Enduring Freedom VIII-IX. And to boot my Grand Father as a child was living in Hawaii (being native Hawaiian) during the attack of Pearl Harbor. So you can say that War is in our lineage.
This weekend I went a visited my Dad in Virginia Beach, he lives REALLY close to Oceana NAS. All day long (and sometimes into the night) growing up I heard the F-18s flying over. My two sons, my father and I were at the dinner table eating Pizza in his tiny 800 sqft home. When another jet flew overhead, drowning out any and all noise in the house. After the roar of the afterburners decrescendoed into the distance, my youngest son; Caleb, goes "Wha da? pane?" (What's that? Plane?). My father responded "No, Freedom." He looks over at me and gives me a wink.
I've often thought of moments like this. As they played out in my mind, I was annoyed by how cheesy it sounds. But this time, two generations of war veterans that have spilt blood and bled in foreign lands in defense of our Beautiful Country; This time as it played out, it felt genuine.
