If you don't have a favorite veteran to thank and think about it consider one of mine.
John Calvin Miles
In August of 1968 about half way between Dong Tam and My Tho a lone duece and a half rolled. There were eleven of us in the back and three in the cab. I escaped with a slightly fractured pelvis and after seeing nothing but arms and legs sticking out from under that truck decided I could go for help.
It turned out there was only one man out of fourteen killed. He was described to me as that tall black guy sitting in the middle in the cab. I was there for no more than ten days on a temporary duty assignment. I'd come in just the day before and could vaguely remember the guy they told me about.
For almost thirty years there was this out of focus image of this man who had died in the most traumatic event of my life, a tall thin African American who died only because he was sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Then in 1997 I discovered a site where if you knew some facts you could do a search of The Wall to find out more about someone there.
I found John Calvin Miles.
John Calvin was drafted. John Calvin served. And when given orders to Viet Nam, he went. He wasn't a grunt fighting Charlie in the boonies. He didn't die trying to save his buds.
John Calvin was typical of the veteran you see today. He went to do a job and he did it. He was one of the eighty percent of the soldiers who went to Viet Nam to support the fighting twenty percent.
I did a search to find out if there was any family around. I'd already struck a dead end trying to locate family of one of my buds who'd served with me in 66 thru 67 and then got killed immediately after I'd rotated out.
I found John Calvin's mother, little old lady with the sweetest voice ever. We cried and talked about Viet Nam and she told me stories about John Calvin. I got the distinct impression he was his mama's favorite always. She told me about him telling her that Viet Nam was the most beautiful country ever. If the war was ever over and there could ever be a way he wanted to take her there so she could see it for herself.
Then she told me that I was the first person to contact her besides the official ones when they sent the body home to be buried. She told me about the letter that arrived just before the notice of his death. In it he'd told her there was some racial strife going on and how he was worried about things.
For almost thirty years she, her other sons, and her daughter had assumed that the truck crash cause of death was a cover up.
So if you need a vet to thank, thank John Calvin as his mama calls him. Think about how he was drafted and served for our freedom. Consider that when I was trying to locate family the only one who had phone service in 1997 was his mother. He died so others could have opportunity.
