A Veteran Speaks . . .
He was 91 years young and sat across the long, white folding table from me. His right hand shook as he raised the decorative, paper cup of hot, black coffee to his lips. He slowly parted his lips, revealing a number of silver fillings in both his upper and lower front teeth. One bottom lateral incisor was missing.
Intermingled with mostly gray, he still had dark areas in his hair and his thick mustache was neatly trimmed. He apparently didn’t own an ear hair trimmer or at least hadn’t used one for quite some time.
So you write about climate change, huh”, he muttered in a coarse, gravelly voice. He was thin, his skin wrinkled and bronzed, but his voice was strong. He had apparently overheard a conversation I had previously with a lady that shared my view.
I respond, “Yes, some might say I’m a little obsessed with it”
“Are ya”, he asked.
“Well, I’m truthful while the activist climate change community is certainly obsessed.” I’m not sure where he stands on the issue or where he’s going with it. I admit to being slightly intimidated, but not exactly sure why.
“Well, in all my years, I’ve seen many things. I only smelled the Second World War and tasted its sour aftermath, but I was active in Korea. Infantry – specialist with a 240 mm Howitzer M1. I saw weather all over the world in my day. I was on the east coast when Hazel hit in ’54. It hadn’t been long after I had come back from Seoul”.
“What do you think of climate change”, I quizzed.
“Well in 91 years, it’s never bit me in the butt, but that’s probably because there’s no such thing”. My original question had been answered – I relaxed a little, eased my shoulders, and sat back in my steel and white plastic chair.
He continued, “I remember the hippies back in the ’60s. Protect this, protect that. Peace, love, and all that stuff. It was OK, but now this crap is just getting crazy. And, what’s worse is they are trying to take away the freedoms you and I fought for.”
“Sorry, I was never in the military. I grew up in Canada”, I countered.
“Canuck, huh? Don’t matter none. These kids these days, they ain’t seen nothin’, but sure know everything”. He sat, quiet for quite some time, his eyes darting back and forth while lightly biting a piece of loose skin on his lower lip. He was obviously in thought but had nothing more to add – at least vocally.
With that, he got up slowly while reaching for his aluminum, three-legged cane. He grabbed onto the table with his left hand. The pressure placed on his knuckles caused them to turn white. He picked up his empty cup, threw it into a nearby trash container, and headed for the door. As he walked out, he nodded in my direction. His weathered face and downcast eyes seemed to be holding back a tear. I wondered why.
I thought of him this week – I was at a funeral with a post-service military interment. I stood in a plot of land amongst many triumphant veterans and true heroes. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.
It’s been three years and I have not.