Wherever we go, my husband seems to attract them. They come up to him when we are standing in lines, eating at restaurants, parking our car, or walking in to the movie theater. They want to talk. Some of them have a bit of a belly, some are thin, some walk slowly with a stoop, some swagger with a hand in their pocket, but across the board, they almost all have white hair. They are veterans. They see my husband’s “Retired Army” cap with pins designating which “action” he has seen and they want to swap war stories. They want to share, commiserate, laugh, and maybe even shed a tear or two. They find in my husband, not only a listening ear, but an understanding heart.

Jane Hirschfield says in For What Binds Us,
“…see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.

There’s a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest—“

Many times standing next to the man will be a quiet old lady who nods her head in agreement and smiles pleasantly as she listens to her husband. She has stood beside him many times before. She is proud of what he has done. My husband and I are always so amazed at the sacrifices of these people. Recently, I started taking interest in the other side of the story and asking the wife questions while the men talk on. What were her war stories? “He was gone two years. I had to raise the kids by myself.” “We moved nineteen times in twenty-eight years.” “I didn’t know any different, I was an Army Brat myself.” “We lost our son…our grandson…” the stories are similar.

They want to tell me about their children and their grandchildren. They want to tell me how they survived and even flourished despite the hardships. You see, they are veterans too. Motherhood veterans, wife veterans, laundry veterans, working-woman veterans, housewife veterans, nursing veterans, teaching veterans, prayer veterans, in short, woman veterans. We share a common bond of small triumphs in battle. Our proud flesh is seen in the wrinkles around our eyes and pulled taut across our strong backs. You would probably never know to look at us. We would never wear caps across our head displaying our battle insignias; they would be too countless to cover a cap. We certainly wouldn’t wear one that said, “Retired woman.” We never retire.
What we do wear is a confidence of heart. We should certainly recognize one another in our travels. There is a certain understanding that passes between us when we lock eyes.

What war stories would you like to share?

Segullah wants to salute all the military veterans, men and women, those alive and those who have passed on, who have sworn to defend the Constitution even to the giving of their lives. We thank and honor you.