By Roger Verdon
Special to the Rural Messenger
Young Rachel brought out the groceries she had gathered for me and put them in my trunk. Little did she know she was saving my life.
I stayed in the car. In addition to being 71, I’m ripe for the coronavirus having many of the underlying conditions we’ve been warned about. This virus could probably kill me with a tiny peck on my chin. I need all the help I can get.
Rachel is not alone. Scott’s Hometown Foods in Lindsborg has many employees going to work every day helping us get food, an act duplicated in stores throughout the country. These are brave people. And they are keeping me and others alive.
I may be a fogey, but I want to live. I want more spaghetti to eat, more books to read. I want to kiss my wife’s forehead while she holds me and I hold her. I want to pet a dog. I want to laugh with my daughter. I want to fight with the cat. I want to impress my teacher with a better drum roll. The birds need seed.
The nurses and doctors fighting COVID-19 and exposing themselves are the civilian warriors that stand between me and death. The grocery workers are not in healthcare, but they are in service. They are standing up. And not like soldiers, but as soldiers.
Rachel was performing a kind of national service although she probably doesn’t think of her actions the way I do. Yet, she is out there exposing herself to the virus. Like the doctors. Like the nurses.
In my head, I’m still a soldier as I was 50 years ago, but I know that my time has passed, but I’m not about to save anyone. I have enough trouble saving myself.
When I was a soldier, I didn’t set out to be a hero. I just didn’t want to be a coward. Just do my duty. I also wanted to keep the guys on my left and right alive. But we couldn’t keep everyone safe. The first to go was Superman, a young lieutenant who impressed me with his sense of command as he led his infantry squad into the evening. They set up ambushes along trails the Viet Cong traveled and called in artillery strikes that involved me and my guys. One day he did not come back. Superman was dead. That experience upended me because his death exposed my own mortality. I was 19-years-old.
Eventually, all my guys were wounded by shrapnel. Not me. With the ever-present dark humor that surrounded us, I told them sometimes the wounds skip the handsome ones. There were five or six of us on a 105-mm Howitzer. Next, one of our guys lost a leg. And so on. We couldn’t save everyone.
But we moved on. After all, most of us didn’t ask for that duty. It just came our way. People die, get hurt. As soldiers, we sucked it up.
This is what has just happened to our country. A widespread pandemic has invaded our shores. We didn’t ask for it, but here it is. Now nurses and doctors are on the front lines in combat with an invisible foe. And despite the size of the battle, they are sucking it up, as are so many other Americans.
After my discharge from the Army, I decided that national service was a good idea. Not combat, necessarily. Not even service in the military. But I thought Americans might want to feel the pride I felt for having served by giving something back to their own country for which so many have sacrificed.
There is a personal pride one experiences performing service for others. Helping the poor, working in hospitals, building public works, disaster duty, saving lives. Any of these acts is an opportunity that provides a citizen with an intimate and memorable experience that helps construct a deeper bond to one’s country. Even at the risk of your own life. Leaving one’s comfort zone can build character and shape an individual for the better. And for a lifetime.
I can’t imagine that any of the first responders or medical personnel will ever forget these times. Nor will their families or friends. They will not forget their fears either, but I know they will look back and be proud of overcoming them.
Those of us who are home-bound are also serving our purpose by staying home and helping to support the general effort. I need to shut up and not cause trouble. That’s my job. We are all in this together and there is a sacrifice to be had all around.
If you are doing any of this anti-viral work, driving a truck full of groceries, carrying mail, or healing the sick, I salute you. You may never have signed up for this, but I’m proud to cheer you on, to honor your service to me and to your country.
I want to thank Rachel and the others.
Soldier to soldier.
Roger Verdon served with the 199th Light Infantry Brigade in Vietnam. He is the former managing editor of The Hutchinson News. He received the Kansas Press Association’s Columnist of the Year award. Retired, he and his wife, Norma, live in Lindsborg. Send him a note at [email protected]
