It was in between my dad's tours of duty in Vietnam. My mom went into labor as my father was packing our belongings to move my mom from Ft. Devons, MA, back home to Memphis to be with her family until I was born. The story about my birth reads like a movie plot: with my mom going to the hospital and them saying that she could not be in labor, as it was 3 months too early, then when they got back to base housing, her water broke. My dad flagged down a cab to go to the hospital, and he and my mom piled into the front of it, with three terrified GI's in the back, and the cab driver begging my mom, "Lady, Please don't have that baby in my car!"
I wouldn't have believed the story except that I heard it from each parent separately and it ran the same way. And indeed, on March 9, 1969, I was born at Ft. Devons Army Hospital, almost three months early, weighing in at just 3 lbs., 9 oz.
After I was born, my father was deployed again to Vietnam, and we lived in Memphis until he returned stateside, in November of 1970.
No one knew much about what my father had done in Vietnam, other than that he was Army Intelligence, and was stationed in Korea (my mother said that he spoke Korean in his sleep after he returned).
It was not until the Carter Administration that his assignment in Vietnam was declassified. I learned (if I remember it correctly) that he was a communications officer, and made forays into Vietnam and back, gathering intel and radioing it into their strategic command. He and his partner took turns carrying a heavy radio pack every other day. I also learned that one day that my father was carrying the pack, they came under heavy gunfire, wherein my father's partner was killed and the radio pack, which was riddled with bullets, saved my dad's life.
After optometry school, my father re-entered the service, Air Force this time, and spent his time checking the flyers' eyes, and teaching survivalist training, night vision goggle training, how to set up field hospital (i.e., MASH) units. He also got to go to jump school and F-16 fighter pilot school as part of training for military medical officers. As an aside, he used some of his GI Bill money to learn sign language, and served as an interpreter on base.
When I was in college, my dad, who at that point was a Captain in the Air Force Reserves, was called up to go to Iraq. He served in Iraq, Iran, and Turkey, primarily running field hospitals. It was in Turkey that he met my stepmother, also an Air Force optometrist. When they were released from duty in Iraq, he spent time at the Strategic Air Command (SAC) Headquarters in Omaha and active duty in Louisiana before going back into the Reserves. He even got a job offer at the Pentagon at one point.
My father recently retired, with the rank of Lt. Colonel (my stepmother is also a Lt. Col!). I know that he is enjoying his retirement, but that he also feels very strongly about the service that he has given to our country. And although I didn't love with him for much of my childhood and teens, and our relationship has undergone a number of transitions, I nonetheless am very proud of him. And also very thankful, as I will remind him (and Sharon too!) again, when I call him as I do every year on his birthday, November 11th…Veteran's Day.
Thank You, Colonel Neil B…Thank you, Dad.
Very very neat Beth..thanks for sharing this
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