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Joe Guardiano: A veteran speaks
to being patriotic
I’m a typical Joe, a vet who’s received
much more from this country than most vets have ever had to give up or
forgo. But I often think of a less typical friend, Irv, who stepped on a
land mine in Korea, spent about 4 years in a military hospital, learned
to use a built-up shoe but who over the years had to have successive
parts of that wounded leg surgically removed until it was gone, from the
hip down. And Irv, who has spent years counseling other wounded vets,
would probably march in every parade that waved an American flag - if he
could march!
On the other hand, I came out of the
service whole and healthy. But my patriotism and attitude toward
government and society stem more from my life history than from my four
years in the US Air Force.
My grandparents all came from Italy and
brought my 12-year-old father with them. My parents occasionally spoke
Italian at home, but in outlook and practice we were as American as
apple pie and pizza. Like converts to a religion who then become more
zealous than those born into it, in a hometown that seemed to be more a
cross section of Europe than of heartland America, we were probably a
bit more royal than the king, so to speak, i.e., a bit more impressed by
being American than were many native born who took citizenship for
granted. My father often commented on the wonderful opportunities this
country gave to immigrants and even more to those fortunate enough to
have been born here.
I always enjoyed his stories of other
Americans who did or said something he thought unbelievably insensitive
or stupid. At the end of the story he would highlight the stupidity of
the person by adding, “...and he’s American-born!” incredulous that a
native son was not automatically a superior being.
He always held two jobs so that we could
own our own home. Only a few years before moving into the first one,
however, we had lined up to collect free potatoes from the local
firehouse during the depression. This was indeed a good country; and
government could be good in supporting people in need.
The public schools I attended in New
Jersey contributed to a sense that Americans were indeed a special
breed. We daily recited patriotic songs and pledged our allegiance to
the flag. My father, my brother and I also participated in marching
bands on national holidays along with an impressive number of WWI and II
vets who had their own American Legion building across the street from
my school.
WWII, national mobilization, victory
gardens and a variety of sacrifices in support of the war effort
undoubtedly added immeasurably in sustaining and fostering patriotic
ardor.
During the war and afterward I often
used earnings from my newspaper route to shop for clothes at Army-Navy
surplus stores, preferring used – but genuine –
military clothing, even when they were too big and had other people’s
names stenciled in them. I wore articles of military clothing throughout
my growing years. In my pre-teen years I joined the boy scouts, swearing
on my honor to do my best for God and my country and to obey the scout
law. Thereafter I became a naval cadet; and when I was 17 – but still in
high school - I joined the Naval Reserve. My father had been in the
National Guard, and, as you might guess by now, I saw the military as an
integral part of the American way of life.
In January 1950, before the Korean
outbreak, I joined the Air Force. It offered technical training and the
promise of a better employment future than what I could foresee as a
civilian. I had already spent all my savings on one semester of college,
but I had no academic or professional goals and therefore didn’t feel it
appropriate to accept my mother’s offer that she work my way through
college.
My air force experience maintained in me
a healthy level of patriotism by my working with others in a disciplined
environment. Our basic training group in Texas practiced extra drills at
night, won the 13th
week drill competition, and was honored for having had the lowest number
of marching and uniform violations ever recorded.
I asked for Russian language training,
but the air force instead sent me for training in electronics and in
maintenance of a radar set on bombers. It was awesome. With prior
input from the triple threat man – a single officer who was
simultaneously the radar officer, navigator, and bombardier –
the equipment I maintained could fly the plane on automatic pilot, guide
the aircraft to the launch point, automatically open the bomb bay doors,
activate the mechanism for dropping the bombs, and turn the plane around
and head for home. Just awesome.
I graduated from 36 weeks of electronics
training in Mississippi
as top man in my class and was promoted for it. Later, when my sergeant
in Georgia recommended me for my next promotion, he publicly told my
peers that he had selected me over any of them because he could always
rely on me to do my job, never doubting it would be done, knowing that I
would not return from the plane to the hangar until the equipment was
working properly.
I was also also given additional
squadron duty as the NCOICI&E (non-commissioned officer in charge of
information and education), responsible for organizing seminars and
monthly lectures on patriotism.
These pats on the back sound like little
things, but they were as much appreciated as they might have been had I
earned combat medals. (I never did see combat.) The learning experiences
helped teach me the value of excellence in job performance and fortified
the idea that not only was our country Number One, but with diligence
and hard work, I too could be Number One in my own little world.
For my further education on patriotism,
service in England with my bomb wing in 1951 and 1952 was frosting on
the cake.
The British had a great sense of history
and patriotism. They made a show of it in 1951 by celebrating the year
as Festival Year. The people were still on meat rationing; much of their
way of doing things seemed out of date; they were losing their empire;
and scars of war were still visible in parts of London. But they had
reached a milestone and decided to celebrate with a variety of festive
events. Its guiding principles were summed up by the Archbishop of
Canterbury:
“The
chief and governing purpose of the Festival is to declare our belief and
trust in the British way of life, not with any boastful self-confidence
nor with any aggressive self-advertisement, but with sober and humble
trust that by holding fast to that which is good and rejecting from our
midst that which is evil we may continue to be a nation at unity in
itself and of service to the world. It is good at a time like the
present so to strengthen, and in part to recover, our hold on the
abiding principles of all that is best in our national life.”
His words were inspiring to me as an
affirmative creed that Americans could adapt in our own hard times.
An English girlfriend, only 17 at the
time, was similarly remarkable. She asked that I not look down on nor
laugh at her and her compatriots for their attempts to recover national
pride through having a Festival Year. This was from a girl who lived in
a small rural village where she and most of her neighbors had no running
water in their cottages but who instead shared a community pump. That
was a sober lesson from a poor but devout patriot of the British Empire.
Over the years I have increasingly
recognized that individuals might be deeply patriotic, but life
experience gives us widely divergent views on the pride we feel and
show. Such differences became especially apparent to me in 1950. The
separate drinking fountains for white and colored that I saw at the
train platform in Biloxi, Mississippi were a living page that I had only
read about; and in Washington, DC in 1953 a black waitress apologized to
me and a black buddy – both of us in uniform –
that she could not serve us together in a restaurant we had entered to
have lunch. The NCO club on my base in Savannah where I was stationed
was no less shameful. It had been segregated until the early fifties,
and when it became integrated, most of the white non-coms deserted it.
Such events didn’t detract from my
patriotism, but the reality of life in parts of America where I was the
immigrant affected my view of the American dream and the claim of equal
justice for all.
After the Air Force, I went to college
fulltime. The GI Bill covered all tuition costs and fees, while summer
work and a part time job took care of my subsistence. In addition, in
appreciation for military service, my home town government had
established a special office to provide free testing and counseling for
veterans. Their advisors applauded my learning and career plans. My
government was still being good to me.
Afterward I worked for the US Department
of the Navy and then the Department of State. Unlike the stereotype view
I had held of government personnel (BUREAUCRATS), most of my fellow
civil servants and Foreign Service colleagues were very bright, well
educated, and hard working. I often felt humble when I compared myself
with them.
Experience in overseas assignments
confirmed my earlier observations that my government had and has done
more for me and for Americans generally than most foreign governments do
or are capable of doing for their citizens.
I sometimes think, however, that we vets
who suffered no war wounds too frequently expect more from government
than we deserve. Being a veteran has deepened my appreciation for being
a civilian without lessening my patriotism! On the other hand, I have
always been, and continue to be, a critic of the military mind set, the
group-think culture, and the arrogance of power inherent in military
organizations. As with the All Faiths congregation and unlike the
military, I treasure diversity.
My attitude now is: we did our job. It’s
over. Let’s get on with our lives, and strive to help humanity enjoy
whatever blessings our country offers. As President Kennedy so
appropriately said, “ask not what our country can do for us, but what we
can do for our country.”
That said, I do believe that the
hallmarks of a civilized society are the entitlements it offers to all,
not just to veterans or other advantaged groups. These include food and
physical security, access to medical treatment, affordable education and
training, and decent employment opportunities. We give these
opportunities and benefits to all our military personnel, whatever their
duties. But within the system, they have only limited choices. Our
country, however, can do the same for everyone and still allow freedom
of choice. Whoever coined the phrase “Home Front” understood a basic
truth that life can be viewed as a defense against all enemies, not just
in military zones.
I no longer need to wear a uniform, wave
a flag, beat the drum, or repeat jingoistic slogans to feel or show my
patriotism. I’ve come to believe that Americans carry an invisible
shield of superiority: our Declaration of Independence, the
Constitution, and our way of life are universal models. When we are
scrupulous in following our political and humanitarian principles, we
are universally recognized as being Number One.
For me, being a vet and patriotic has
not meant being chauvinistic but rather loving my country and working to
make it even better than it was during those years when I went to work
everyday in uniform. I’m sure most of you feel the same way. And yet,
I’m also sure that there are some who would make my father shake his
head and say, “..and he’s American-born!”
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