Veteran's Day, Damn it!

This is the second Veteran's Day I've spent in Mexico. Last year I had only been living here for just three months and didn't have a full appreciation of how not the U.S., Mexico is.

I was half asleep this morning when I overheard CCN on my wife's TV. The talking head was reading a story about where Mr. Obama, Mr. Bush and Mr. "Whatshisname", the current vice President, were going to be honoring me on Veteran's Day. When I determined that none of them were coming to Mexico to thank me for my service in Viet Nam, I decided to go to the market and see if there was a parade.

Not to be unpatriotic, I put on my T-shirt from the VVA National Convention in 2007, my 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines Jacket with the Corpsmen patch indicating that "we did our best", and my Camo cap with those pins and patches that label me a Viet Nam Vet who needs to have others know it.

It was early on this cool Autumn morning. The dew was still on the grass, somewhere. But in Ciudad Victoria it was already getting warm and there was no dew. Just the aroma of fresh tortillas and carne asada mixed with the smell of papaya and mangoes being prepared for the crowds of locals making their way through the stalls and alleys of the mercado.

After finding a place to park I got out of my car and adjusted my uniform. I was already questioning the wisdom of wearing the lined jacket. The sweat was already staining my T-Shirt. But I decided that I wanted everyone there to know that this is my day. Veteran's Day. So I began my own parade of one, fully expecting the people I met to smile and thank me for being a veteran. After all, if the United States hadn't sacrificed our men and women in wars around the world, Mexico may not have become a major player in North America. Mexico didn't send anyone to Viet Nam, Korea, Europe in either World War, and they do not have any troops in the middle east. As a matter of fact, the last time Mexico was involved in armed combat it was against the United States. And yet, they enjoy all of the benefits of our sacrifice. With this frame of mind and the self confidence that only comes from an egocentric American, I set out. My black satin jacket with the patches and medals shining in the early morning sun and the brim of my cap darkening from sweat, screamed out to be acknowledged. I am an American combat veteran, damn it. This is my day.

Well, you know the rest. Nobody understood the symbols I was wearing. No one cared that I was a veteran. And, no one said thank you. Except the old woman who sold the watermelon and papaya she grew in her back yard. She said "Thank you" in English when I bought my breakfast melon and papaya juice.

That's enough for me, for now.

Hug a Vet, today. We earned it.