Happy Veterans Day! - 11-11-11

My name is Darcy Mohamed. I want to thank you for your service and sacrifice to our nation. My daddy served in Vietnam. Thank you.

I always have to prepare myself and give my best stiff upper lip when introducing myself to family. I don’t want our enemies to spot our greatest weakness and our greatest strength: our immense love and devotion for each other.

It is a love that never fades, dies or grows weary. It endures through conflict, suffering and loss. It only grows stronger when challanged or tested. When our family faces the enemy, we are with them whether on the field of battle or the home front. We put our bodies before our wounded warriors. We face their enemies both foreign and domestic with a ferocity that is only matched by their own for protecting us. There is no greater love than that. We are strong because of our brave. Our brave are strong because of us.

While our government puts our warriors in danger without any regard for them and glad hands their service and sacrifice, we look after our warriors as best as we can with less than nothing. When our government puts the lives of the home front in danger as well, even our warriors refuse to remain silent. We remind our nation who and what our military family stands for.

We stand for and with the people according to our Constitution. We took that oath whether we served or not. It wasn’t forced upon us but taken willingly out of a love for our military family and nation.

I never saw that love and dedication more clearly than when I paid my respects with my momma and immigrant husband at the National Mall. It is a sacred and solemn right, duty and obligation to honor our family’s service and sacrifice. As daughters of veterans of foreign wars, my mother and I knew nothing different. We have lived and breathed it every day of our lives.

My husband was beyond respectful and tried to give us space when greeting family. Each monument was a new story of our military family’s service and sacrifice as well as our own personal ones. He had already heard the stories a million times over and heard them again that day.

My momma and I stopped at the wheelchair of a WWII veteran as we each stared at the monument to their sacrifice. My hijab wasn’t even noticed as I shook his hand and thanked him. We listened as he recounted his service and sacrifice. We told him about my grandfathers’ service alongside his own. We honored our fallen and were grateful for those who made it home.

My husband simply stood back and observed. A family member asked him about us. He told them our family history of military service and that it was an honor for him to help us pay our respects. He didn’t yet understand his role. He felt like an outsider. His own oath taken as a recent hire of the State Department seemed inconsequential by comparison.

It was at the Wall that our national and personal tragedy became overwhelming. Daddy caught a bullet that ended his career forty years earlier. We urged my husband to enter with us and stand beside us but he wanted to stand a bit behind at a respectable distance as we mourned.

A family member saw him watching us with love, respect and sorrow as we ran our fingers across the names and prayed for Daddy’s men while he listened from Georgia. It was a scene repeated and acknowledged along the entire length. The pain, suffering and sorrow feeling as fresh as it did when Daddy first told me that he got shot in a place called Vietnam.

The family member did what we have always done, they asked him if he served. He answered with the ease of a seasoned family member. He said that my father, my mom’s husband was a Marine in Vietnam. He was wounded forty years ago and carried out of the jungle by his men. They were subsequently killed in action on a single day as he recovered.

We were praying for Daddy’s men who never got the chance for a homecoming, even the nightmarish ones of an unpopular war. Daddy was taken off ship in a wheelchair with civilian clothes so as to avoid protesters and those who enjoyed screaming ‘Baby Killer!’ to any service member who happened by.

Momma was against the war like most young women but she remembered her roots. Grandpa served in the Army during WWII and in the Air National Guard upon returning. He was also a volunteer firefighter. Many of her uncles served as well. She was raised by strong military families who had endured and remembered their service and sacrifice always.

Her love for our military family knew no bounds. She didn’t love them for the pomp and circumstance nor the prestige. She loved them like family because that’s who they are. She looked after and took care of them as such, as do I. It is an honor and a privilege to do so.

When I thank any member of our military family for their service and sacrifice, I am honoring my own family’s service and sacrifice for we are one in the same. We understand as only family can. From my earliest military ancestor who fought for our freedom in the Revolutionary War to my three times great granddaddy who fought for the Confederacy out of the Appalachian hills and hollers of Eastern Tennessee to my Army, Navy and Marine granddaddies who served during World War II and to Daddy’s service in Vietnam, I honor them all by honoring you every chance I get.

So on this day, Veterans’ Day and all other days throughout the year and beyond, I thank you for your service and sacrifice to our beloved nation both on and off the field of battle. You have my undying love, gratitude and respect.

God, please look after and keep our military family safe from harm for all of their days. Please heal them from their pain, suffering and loss so that no signs of illness, distress or discomfort remain. Please usher forth an era of peace, love, mercy and understanding for You are all-knowing and most merciful. Amin.

Thank you, Sirs!

All of my love, gratitude and respect always,

Your humble and faithful servant,

Miss Darcy