The whirlwind of Veteran’s Day activities in the past week gave each of us time to reflect and remember those who we have known or currently know who have been or are currently active in our nation’s armed forces.

My Dad, Clent Tucker, was in the Army and served in the South Pacific during World War II as did his brother, my Uncle Glenn Tucker. My younger brother Carey Fred, recently retired from the Air Force as a colonel with three decades of service and his sons Mark, currently in the Air Force, and Andrew, a Marine who served his country proudly in Iraq, make me very proud of my family’s tradition. I have cousins, uncles and others who are currently serving or have served in the past.

The reality really hits home each day now with my stepdaughter, Sgt. Holly Collings, U.S. Army MP Canine Handler, now serving in Germany. She is approaching five years of service at this time and just recently became a sergeant. At least now with modern technology and the wonders of the internet, my wife is able to face-time and text, hearing from Holly on a regular basis.

Being at my age of 66, the war affecting my generation was Viet Nam. I was not able to be in the armed forces because of an injury to my back. I saw many young men during Viet Nam serve and return safely, others who returned, but frankly were never the same, and those who came home in a pine box draped in an American flag.

My senior year of high school was in 1968-1969 and the nightly death toll numbers on television started me wondering about why we were involved in this place so far away. Backtrack to 1963, I was in the seventh grade and my hero was W.W. Samuell quarterback Albert J. Cartledge III. I used to wait for the players and walk close to them after each game, especially Albert. The big guy never blew me off, he would shake my hand and talk to me on the way to the bus. He talked to me about football, and would ask about my Hawthorne Hornet seventh grade team. I was an end at the time, but he encouraged me to try to be a quarterback if that is what I wanted. After the last regular season game, he took off his chin strap and handed it to me, the greatest gift of my life at the time.

The next year I followed my hero’s advice tried out for the position and became a quarterback the next two years as a Fred Florence Gladiator. I saw him only one more time, but he saw me play at a game against the other local school, the John B. Hood Rebels who trounced us 33-0. He told me to keep my head up and never look back. As I wrote in a previous column I was a quarterback at Samuell on the

B team as a sophomore, not just as a back-up, but a back-up to the third string quarterback. In other words, my playing time was relegated to practice.

After a back injury my sophomore year, there were no more sports for me in high school, but as we graduated in May of 1969, I remember one thing that has been imprinted in my memory for all time. Cartledge had joined the Marines and started his tour in Viet Nam March 6, 1969. We got word that on May 27, 1969 in the province of Quang Nam United States Marine Albert Cartledge was killed in ground combat at the age of 23. It was the first time I actually knew someone who had died in battle. Don’t get me wrong, Albert and I were not good friends, he was older and one of my early heroes. I was 18, just graduated from high school, headed to college and knew many young men who were drafted or joined during Viet Nam. But the death of Cartledge led me to start looking at life in a much more serious manner.

Then just a little over a year later it struck home. My friend Earl David Broach, or Dallas as his military buddies called him, was killed in hostile action Phu Yen, South Viet Nam. Broach was 19 years old. He was killed in August 1970. David had been home in the spring from his first tour of Viet Nam and we were all thrilled to see him.

I had met David in high school. He actually invited me to start going to church with him at Bethany Baptist Church. The church we had been going to was strictly fundamentalist. Broach told me about Royal Ambassadors which met on Wednesdays. They actually served dinner on Wednesdays at church, had Bible studies and even played baseball and basketball in organized competition across the Dallas area.

I went to church with David and eventually joined along with my family and it had a profound change in our lives. Church became a lot of fun and worship was a joy not a job. He introduced me to everyone there although I had known a few.

He was the catcher and I was the pitcher in baseball for our church team. When I got tired we would switch places. After my injury my sophomore year I was unable to play other than maybe throw an inning or pinch hit, but Broach got me on a team he played for because he knew how much I missed playing.

The last time I saw David we were at the SITE Gas station on the corner of Buckner and Jennie Lee. We had just left the local Pizza Inn hang out and I drove over behind him. He was on his new motorcycle and was gassing up to return to action. As we shook hands and hugged, he turned up the radio on his motorcycle, took off and rolled down South Buckner as John Kay and Steppenwolf blared “Born to be Wild.”

The next time I saw him was at his funeral at Bethany Baptist Church. He was a proud soldier, a member of Company K (Ranger) 75th Infantry. He had always wanted to be on Ranger Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol. I have heard, and it sounds just like him, that on the day he was killed he had volunteered to take “point” for a fellow soldier who had fallen ill. As I saw David’s flag-draped casket leave the church that day, my views and my thinking started going through many changes leading me to certain beliefs and feelings I still have today.

David was a hero. He received two Silver Stars, a Bronze Star, two Air Medals and two Army Commendation Medals.

I have seen the touring version of the Viet Nam wall with it’s over 58,267 names of casualties. Two names I have made what is called a “rubbing” or copy on a sheet of paper I ran a pencil over on paper to have their names.

Good friend Orval Lindsey brought by some interesting statistics about Viet Nam. Just so you know: threw are three sets of fathers and sons on the wall; 39,996 were just 22 or younger; 8,283 were 19; the largest age group was the 33,103 18 year-olds; 12 soldiers on the wall were 17; five soldiers 16 and one soldier, Dan Bullock, was 15 years-old when killed; 997 soldiers were killed on their very first day in Viet Nam; 1,448 soldiers were killed on what was supposed to be their last day in Viet Nam; eight women are on the wall who were killed while nursing the wounded; and 54 soldiers on the wall all attended one high school, Edison High School in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

I have deep admiration for the men and women who served in our armed forces. I am further deeply thankful for those who are serving today in these chaotic times. My hopes and prayers are with you daily.

Every day should be Veteran’s Day. Thank you soldiers!