Miss-Delectable
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News Leader - Fernandina Beach, Florida (Amelia Island)
Dad was in the Korean War - a U.S. Marine and proud of it. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Dad's a Chosin Marine. If you don't know what that is, find an old leatherneck and ask him. Dad was in an artillery company that was engaged in some of the war's worst battles.
He's a man of few words. He doesn't talk much about it, but you can see that bloody, forgotten war in his eyes when he does. The fighting was so fierce at times, the artillery fired around the clock and the enemy kept coming. The gun barrels got so hot they packed snow and ice on them to keep them from warping and to prevent the charges from detonating prematurely. The enemy came in waves, getting vaporized by point blank artillery fire. The noise was so loud you finally got numb to it, Dad says. They slept on the frozen ground with artillery thundering over them all night.
It took a toll on him. He remembers the carnage wrought upon an enemy bent for his destruction but derives no pleasure from it. He prays for their souls. He was wounded but the wound wasn't apparent until about 20 years ago when he started losing his hearing. He went to doctor after doctor to no avail. Then someone referred him to the Veterans Administration. The VA doctors examined him and said that kind of hearing loss could only be caused by prolonged exposure to extraordinarily loud, concussive sounds. He'd eventually lose his hearing altogether. They fitted him with some high-tech hearing aids. They worked for a while, but then we noticed that Dad wasn't taking part in family conversations. He looked confused and lost a lot. He went back to the VA and they said there was nothing else they could do. He was going deaf.
Now he's almost completely deaf. It won't be long before he is. A man who used to love a big hearty laugh is now mostly silent because he's reluctant to speak for fear of sounding loud and stupid and getting something wrong in conversations. He's afraid to drive. He can't hear the doorbell. He can't talk with his kids and grandkids unless they're almost in his face and speaking very loud. Even then, he misunderstands a lot. Forget talking on the phone. Those of us who live away can only talk with him when we go home.
Dad doesn't have a bullet wound or a face full of shrapnel like his brother, who was blown out of his foxhole. When the battle ended and the medals were handed out, there were none for Dad because he had an invisible wound.
You can get a little fragment of steel in your arm and get the Purple Heart. You get your eardrums turned to hash by non-stop howitzer fire and go deaf because of it but that doesn't count.
The VA started sending him disability checks a few years ago. They said he could get an increase if his condition worsened, which it did. When he asked for an increase, a government for which he put his life on the line turned him down. Not once, but twice.
The same government that throws money at pork-barrel projects, subsidized corporate fat cats and pointless wars denies a disabled old Marine a few dollars more. Can you believe it?
Semper Fi, Marine. On behalf of a grateful nation - blah, blah, blah. Empty words.
They say he can appeal. He's doing that now. All his doctors have confirmed that his condition has deteriorated badly but the government has been unyielding to date. It doesn't mind creating disabled war veterans. But it's easy to forget them when they're old. They don't complain much. It's not their way.
It should make you angry. It could be your dad. It shouldn't be anyone's. The old man deserves an increase in his disability. It's the least our country can do for a deaf old Marine. He shouldn't have to plead. A Purple Heart would be nice, too. Not that he would ever ask. It's not his way, so I'll do it for him.
Are you listening, Uncle Sam?
Dad was in the Korean War - a U.S. Marine and proud of it. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Dad's a Chosin Marine. If you don't know what that is, find an old leatherneck and ask him. Dad was in an artillery company that was engaged in some of the war's worst battles.
He's a man of few words. He doesn't talk much about it, but you can see that bloody, forgotten war in his eyes when he does. The fighting was so fierce at times, the artillery fired around the clock and the enemy kept coming. The gun barrels got so hot they packed snow and ice on them to keep them from warping and to prevent the charges from detonating prematurely. The enemy came in waves, getting vaporized by point blank artillery fire. The noise was so loud you finally got numb to it, Dad says. They slept on the frozen ground with artillery thundering over them all night.
It took a toll on him. He remembers the carnage wrought upon an enemy bent for his destruction but derives no pleasure from it. He prays for their souls. He was wounded but the wound wasn't apparent until about 20 years ago when he started losing his hearing. He went to doctor after doctor to no avail. Then someone referred him to the Veterans Administration. The VA doctors examined him and said that kind of hearing loss could only be caused by prolonged exposure to extraordinarily loud, concussive sounds. He'd eventually lose his hearing altogether. They fitted him with some high-tech hearing aids. They worked for a while, but then we noticed that Dad wasn't taking part in family conversations. He looked confused and lost a lot. He went back to the VA and they said there was nothing else they could do. He was going deaf.
Now he's almost completely deaf. It won't be long before he is. A man who used to love a big hearty laugh is now mostly silent because he's reluctant to speak for fear of sounding loud and stupid and getting something wrong in conversations. He's afraid to drive. He can't hear the doorbell. He can't talk with his kids and grandkids unless they're almost in his face and speaking very loud. Even then, he misunderstands a lot. Forget talking on the phone. Those of us who live away can only talk with him when we go home.
Dad doesn't have a bullet wound or a face full of shrapnel like his brother, who was blown out of his foxhole. When the battle ended and the medals were handed out, there were none for Dad because he had an invisible wound.
You can get a little fragment of steel in your arm and get the Purple Heart. You get your eardrums turned to hash by non-stop howitzer fire and go deaf because of it but that doesn't count.
The VA started sending him disability checks a few years ago. They said he could get an increase if his condition worsened, which it did. When he asked for an increase, a government for which he put his life on the line turned him down. Not once, but twice.
The same government that throws money at pork-barrel projects, subsidized corporate fat cats and pointless wars denies a disabled old Marine a few dollars more. Can you believe it?
Semper Fi, Marine. On behalf of a grateful nation - blah, blah, blah. Empty words.
They say he can appeal. He's doing that now. All his doctors have confirmed that his condition has deteriorated badly but the government has been unyielding to date. It doesn't mind creating disabled war veterans. But it's easy to forget them when they're old. They don't complain much. It's not their way.
It should make you angry. It could be your dad. It shouldn't be anyone's. The old man deserves an increase in his disability. It's the least our country can do for a deaf old Marine. He shouldn't have to plead. A Purple Heart would be nice, too. Not that he would ever ask. It's not his way, so I'll do it for him.
Are you listening, Uncle Sam?