Disrespected Vets

Disrespected Vets
I am not overly fond of the new American language, or the men of this generation, but I felt that in this case the word disrespected was descriptive.
After forty years I only vaguely remember the time I spent in Vietnam, much it is like a dream. I look at the fading photos of the skinny, smiling kid with blonde hair and his ribs sticking out, and I feel somehow related to him, distantly perhaps. Occasionally I see these same youthful faces on today’s soldiers but there is one major difference. Nothing else can be seen but their faces, sometimes only their eyes. Their bodies are encased in armored chest protectors, with hands, knees, and elbows covered in hockey-like gear. Sometimes even the faces are erased, hidden by goggles, face shields, or night vision apparatus. They look more like machines, Star Wars Storm Troopers, than they do men. I often wonder if they have the same fears, hopes, and dreams that my generation of warriors did.
But these young men and women are not the veterans I refer to in this blog. The disrespected Iraqi veterans are four fighting knives now in my collection. Lying in one drawer are two Ek knives and in another drawer two custom knives. Although they are not abused, they are the victims of a moral neglect. I bought these knives on Ebay, and the question that disturbs me is what sort of warrior would willingly part with his closest friend and weapon? There wasn’t a night in Vietnam that I didn’t sleep without a knife (and/or a pistol) under my pillow, and I was one of the lucky ones to have a pillow. I never put on my pants without putting on my knife. To neglect wearing my knife would have been unthinkably careless, plain stupid. One of my Vietnam knives was stolen, and one was lost during one of my mother’s moves. Although they were not expensive knives I missed them. To me it would have been a sacrilege to sell them.
Let me introduce you to these disrespected vets. The top one is a beautiful custom combat knife by Mike Irie. It came from a young man who could hardly wait to divest himself of it. He wanted the money so he could go on a cruise with his parents. I could not help but wonder if it was the same parents who might have bought him the very expensive knife. This is a knife I would have loved to carry to Vietnam with me.
The second Iraqi veteran is a very sleek fighting knife by W.C. Davis. It too lies slumbering in that drawer, dotingly cared for by me, and not its original owner. You know, I vividly remember throwing away all of my dyed green BVDs when I got back from Vietnam, but my knives, never. In fact, I searched for years until I found a replacement for the German dagger that my mother lost.
A spare hand grenade ring dangles from the lanyard of the W-3 Ek, the third knife down in the photo. This knife had the cheap wooden handles sanded down to fit the owner’s hand, and yet this knife too has now parted company with its owner. This knife has seen more use than the others, and it has the odor of war, sand, and sweat about it. This Ek is not an extravagant knife, like the Irie or the Davis, but it is an honest, tired vet. I am pleased that it found its way to me.
The last knife is another Ek, an M-6 double-edged Bowie. The owner said he wanted to get rid of everything that reminded him of being over there. I wondered if I should have kept his address so that a few years from now he could reclaim his knife and his memories. This Ek has also been used. It is not some foot locker prima donna. At some point the owner removed the original paracord wrap and replaced it with black Ek micarta scales. That makes it a nicer knife to handle. The M-6 Ek is a solid fighting knife worthy of any warrior.
Only the two Eks show any signs of use and sharpening. I know that the Irie was carried too because the sheath shows wear and has sand embedded in the nylon weave. Only the owners of these knives know why they were discarded, and now you know one of the reasons why I am not enthused with today’s generation of warriors. I suppose that war has become too complicated for knives or that I have become too old for the way of today’s world, and yes, despite my grumbling, I think that we have some of the finest men and women in uniform that the world has seen. It is too bad that they are seen in so many places.