Like every other American, I have been told, “It’s okay to hate the war, but you have to support the troops.” As the daughter of two military vets, there was no question in my mind that the troops deserved to be supported. However, what I did not understand, until the last few years of my life, is that not every generation of soldiers received the same respect my parents and my friends, who currently serve, do. It wasn’t until my first long term relationship that I had the absolute pleasure of meeting and getting to know a Vietnam veteran. Mel Minney was my ex-boyfriend’s grandfather, and a good one at that.

I do not know if I will ever fully comprehend the kind of person Mel was back when he served, but I know him now. During the time Connor and I were still together, I was exposed to Mel’s story in small ways. From seeing him sport his “Vietnam Veteran” hat, with pride, to volunteering with him and his wife on Easter at our local veteran center. Piece by piece, as I got to know him, he revealed different parts of his past. He told me about how he was heart set on joining the marines but woke up hungover in front of the army enlistment office the day he was going to enlist and just went for it. Finally, after several years of knowing their family, my curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask; this was the first time I had asked him directly about serving.

I asked him what was his most fond memory of serving was. He was silent for a very long time. He shook his head at me, “Well I wasn't prepared for that.” I knew that recalling so much about war must have been difficult for him. I did not want to pry. Then I rephrase my question, “what memory stands out the most to you?” He paused again.Then he told me about the plane. He always wanted to fly. However, he didn't know that the army flew planes too. “I just wanted to go to jump school and be a paratrooper. I didn't have my diploma when I joined so I was fine with just being a grunt. My brother was stationed nearby training troops. He came over a couple times and asked me about going into aviation, talking about helicopters and stuff like that. I said I don't care I just want to be a grunt jump out of planes. When I got my assignment, it was for Fort Rocker, Arkansas, working on the gunships. Being a pilot was pretty crazy for a 19-year-old kid.”

Then he said solemnly, “Our job was to take the enemy out but when we would get light on fuel in low on ammo, a lot of times we'll be waiting for medivac. But the area was hot so the medivac couldn’t come in until after things cool off. So we would go in and pick up the wounded on our gunship, which we weren't supposed to do but we had our door gun so we went on in. The first one we did really made us feel good and really made you feel like you're saving lives, you know? They tell you that you're saving lives by your job but saving wounded troops was when I really felt like I was saving lives. Most combat vets, when you ask that question, all they can think of is the things that they had to do. But flying down there and helping the wounded to safety was always the best.” He smiled at me, and I could tell how proud he was.

I asked him what was it like to come home. The smile slowly vanished and he shook his head at me. “Honestly?” he asked, “it was horrible. They tell you that coming home will be so much better but it wasn't. Not for us who served.” I had a good idea of what he was talking about. I could only imagine the streets filled with anti-war protesters booing the returning soldiers instead of loved ones there to support them. Being blamed for the orders they followed. It only made him want to go back even more. “I served longer than I was supposed to. I just really did not want to go back. I had a good job so I stayed for a while. It was home. They say that getting out of the military and going home will be a lot better, but it was difficult.” I could imagine why. To return to a country they thought they were fighting for would tear anyone apart. It's often easy to forget that other human beings put their lives on the line all the time to protect the ones they love; those people deserve the highest of respects. This is not to say the military is without fault nor is it perfect, but it is composed of people just like me and you. They could be sitting next to you as you read this, they could be your neighbor, they could be your friends grandparent. What matters is that they are human.