Being a Veteran

For two years 1979-1981 I worked as a “staffing specialist” at a major hospital in Buffalo. My job was to make sure all of the nursing units had adequate staffing on their unit, and if they didn’t, I had to assign a “float” nurse and/or aide to that unit. Over the two years, I got to know all of the “floats” and most of the nurses, and I loved it. One of the float aides and a couple of the nurses were in the U.S. Army Reserves; I don’t remember whether or not they’d been active soldiers, but their serving as “weekend warriors” added to their income and they had paid leave while doing their annual 2-week active duty training.

The idea became quite attractive to me. Not only was I living on a shoestring, but since my marriage ended I’d worked in a profession in which I met mostly women. I was single, and didn’t have many opportunities to meet men. I also despaired of ever being able to travel, since I had no money. The three things bothering me the most had an answer! The Reserves! I had a soft spot for the Navy, so I called the U.S. Navy Recruiting Center in Buffalo, and they were perplexed at this woman who’d never been in the Armed Forces, but they were willing to talk with me. I had an interview, took a battery of tests, and they gave me numerous forms to fill out. I sent in all the required information and waited…and waited…and waited. Over a year later I called and somehow they’d misplaced everything, but eventually found the file so I didn’t have to do it all over again. I did have to go in and sign papers, and when I did, the Commanding Officer of the Security Group at the Reserve Center saw this young middle-aged woman signing up and became curious. He came over, told the soldier taking my information that I spoke fluent Russian (untrue!) and would be needed in the Security Group. So, once the F.B.I. ran a top secret security check on me, I was sworn in as a Seaman First Class of the U.S. Navy Reserve. I was issued a full set of appropriate uniforms, including combat boots, that arrived in a huge seabag a month or so later. That was in February 1983, and my enlistment was for 6 years.

In summer of 1984, my two-week active duty training sent me to a base in Scotland, where there’s a huge security facility to monitor activity in the North Sea. I was posted, not to the Security Group, but to the Public Affairs Office, where I answered the phone calls of local Scottish dignitaries who had questions about the upcoming Changing of the Guard on the base. And I had a weekend off in Edinburgh, where I attended the famous Edinburgh Tattoo and got most of my Christmas shopping done. So much for “training”.

There was a single man a few years younger than I in my Reserve unit, and we had a very nice relationship for several months, so all but one of my reasons for joining the Navy Reserves was fulfilled. In the early 80’s there were ‘hot spots’ around the world, and my sons at that time were at the right age. Brian had registered as a conscientious objector, but Scott would have been willing to enlist if there had been a need. I figured that if my kids were going to serve their country, I would too.

As it turned out, some time after I began a position with the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra, I had to work every weekend, and it became difficult to be absent from work even once a month for my weekend drills, so after 2 years of Active Reserve Status, I became part of the Standby Inactive Reserve. No drill, no pay, but if there was ever a general callup of the Armed Forces, I’d become an Active Reservist. I only hoped they wouldn’t expect me to speak Russian! I received my Honorable Discharge from the U.S. Navy Reserve in 1989.

Every year at St. Mark’s on the Sunday before Veteran’s Day, there is a breakfast for all the Veterans. I went two years ago, made creamed chipped beef (S.O.S.), took in a couple of pictures of me in my summer uniform, but felt uneasy and didn’t attend the breakfast last year. Linda, the priest at St. Mark’s, asked me a week or so ago if I planned to bring S.O.S. for the breakfast again. I said no, and I wouldn’t attend. I told her I don’t feel like a veteran, I hardly did anything, I was inactive for 6 years, etc. She said “We need your S.O.S. at the breakfast, so please come.”

I did, and after the breakfast (not only S.O.S., but pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage), Linda’s sermon spoke of a person she’d talked to who didn’t consider himself a veteran because he was never in harm’s way, and she told him what was important. “You showed up.”, she said she told him. That’s all that’s necessary. You showed up, you signed up with the knowledge that you could be required to go where they send you. You showed up.

I am a veteran. I showed up—no matter my selfish reasons at the time. One of them wasn’t so selfish. If there was a problem that my country was involved in, especially if any of my children were involved, I wanted to do my part. So on this day, November 11, I am proud that I did my little bit to serve my country. I showed up.