My family members who served in the military were blessed enuff to come home alive, but all the veterans knew people that didn't. My dad said there were two days of the year when his great-grandfather would crawl into a bottle, and both days were anniversaries of particularly bloody Civil War battles that he'd been in. I know he'd survived the battle of Shiloh, but I forget the other one. Either way, my great-great-granddaddy had a hard time two days of the year. Daddy said the rest of the time he hid it pretty well.
My own grandpa also suffered some PTSD after his experiences overseas during WWII. Again, he functioned pretty well, but he saw things (and did things) that haunted him 'til the day he died. Our military men and women are not wussies, ladies and gents. I admit that I love the day off from work, the family, and the food that Memorial Day brings, but I don't let myself forget the real reason for it. I hope y'all don't either.
Happy Memorial Day,
RagingMoon1987
