Fathers and Sons and Going to War

Yesterday's send-off party was a mix of old home week and new young faces. I'm convinced that the best party chat comes from people who are in the military or who have been in the military. The friendships, comaraderie and memories are indelible.

Our friend will be heading today, with the men of his unit, to a post in Texas for an intense month-long preparation for the roles they will fill in Iraq. Their mission will take place somewhere in the Sunni Triangle. They'll be training the Iraqi Police. They gave us no specifics and I surmised they were putting a good face on the fact that this is profoundly dangerous.

Our friend's father was there. Last we saw him, a decade ago, he was silver-haired and handsome. Yesterday, he was white-haired, and just as handsome. He's aged though, and he wore a pensive expression. Forty years ago, he was the one heading off to war and this son of his was a tyke of three. Our friend's hero is, and has always been, his father. During his life, he did junior ROTC, a military college and a career in the Army. So much of that began with his profound respect and admiration for his father. The only thing they hadn't shared was combat.

And now, forty years later, this son is going off to war. It seems to me that the father's pensiveness comes from admiration and pride and sadness and fear. There are things that combat veterans share that can only be fully understood by one who was there. And it will soon be known to the son who is going there.