My favorite veteran

would have to be my dad. Definitely.

I grew up during the Vietnam War. I remember the draft, the protests, the nightly newscasts of casualties and devastation and prisoners of war and missing in action. It was just a part of life. Yet I know of no one my age that served in Vietnam because thankfully it was over that spring of 1975.
I was 16.

My Dad enlisted in the army when he came home from his mission. He had already entered the Salt Lake mission home when he was drafted. He was sent home while the Church and the government played tug of war with his life. The Church won with the understanding that he was only delaying his entrance into the Service. My mom and dad married while he was in the army. Two months later he was sent to Berlin, Germany for 13 months without my mother. The Korean conflict had recently ended. Dad was a clerk at the Spandau prison where the Nazi war criminals were held. Boot camp and all those rifle and survival training exercises in Yakima prepared my dad to sit facing a typewriter. He may have been through East Germany but I think the enemy was loneliness and boredom. I love that my dad served in the military. Thanks dad and servicemen everywhere who protect our freedoms and this great country.