Family Day at Fort Snelling - July 21, 2007
Oct 22, 2007 7:35:05 GMT -6
Post by Moderator on Oct 22, 2007 7:35:05 GMT -6
Transcript of the speech delivered by Jeff Seeber on July 21, 2007 at the annual Family Day for Company A, 452nd Combat Support Hospital, U.S. Army Reserve, Fort Snelling - Minneapolis, MN ...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THANK YOU, MILITARY MEDICAL PERSONNEL
I had a routine appointment at the VA Medical Center a few weeks ago and I stopped in the Smoke Shack for a quick cigarette before going upstairs to the Pulmonary Clinic. About a dozen guys were sitting there talking. A Vietnam Vet, a double amputee, was talking to two guys who had each lost a leg in Iraq. He jokingly said to them that he thought about re-enlisting after 9/11 just so he could help the next generation defend America. The entire room erupted in laughter. Then, he said, "It turned out you didn't need any help from us old guys."
He was right. You did not need our help. In fact, you helped us. Not only has your service and sacrifice enabled the other 99-percent of your fellow Americans to go on with their lives in relative peace, you have helped each and every one of us who served in the 60s, the 70s, and throughout the Cold War, to regain a part of our lives we thought was lost forever. And that's why I'm here today.
Those of us who wore the uniform back then have no idea how you did it. We have no clue why Americans who came together to support YOU suddenly started to recognize us as well. To our amazement, we had people walking up to us and saying, "Welcome Home" ... and they meant it. We had people walking up to us and saying, "Thank you for your service" ... and they were sincere. All of you here today, those of you wearing the uniform, as well as your families and friends, have somehow managed to reverse a trend that had become far too familiar.
Throughout our history, America at large, including Veterans from each major conflict, begin ignoring those who served or who still wear the uniform within months of the conclusion of the most recent action. Less than 10 years after the end of World War II, our Servicemembers who fought in Korea in the 1950s were forgotten while they were deployed and then abandoned when they came home. During Vietnam, things got downright ugly. In hindsight, we would have been happy to have been merely ignored. Instead, we became the generation of "losers" despite the fact that our forces won every single engagement of that war.
So, when Operations Enduring Freedom, Noble Eagle, and eventually Iraqi Freedom commenced, Vietnam-era Vets began looking for a way to support you so that you would NOT be treated like we were. But before we could figure out a way to accomplish that, you had already started helping us. Consequently, a bond has developed between Servicemembers of your generation and the Veterans of my generation that is without precedence in American Military history.
You are the reason my group was able to begin the Military Salute Project. You are the reason I was able to give three of my buddies the Military Funeral Honors they never had when we coordinated EchoTaps at Fort Snelling National Cemetery on May 19th. You are the reason I was able to stand in front of 23,000 Hmong-Americans at their Freedom Festival a few weeks ago to thank the Hmong Freedom Fighters and Veterans of the Royal Army of Laos for saving hundreds, if not thousands, of American Servicemembers and CIA operatives who likely would have died, including a friend of mine. You are the reason I had the honor and privilege of standing with my brother and sister Patriot Guard Riders several times this past week ... about half of them Vietnam-era Veterans ... to welcome home Minnesotans who deployed to the Sandbox almost two years ago. And, you are the reason I am able to stand in front of you today to accomplish something else I have wanted to do for years.
Because of my service-connected disabilities, I have been a patient in the VA medical system since I was 19 years old. I am reminded of my service every day. I am frequently around others who are likewise reminded of their service. Vietnam-era Veterans are now the majority of patients at VA Medical Centers across this country. One of the ways we attempt to repay what you have done for us is to make absolutely certain that we welcome your injured with open arms, that we help them however we can as they enter the next stage of the lifetime of treatment they face, so that they know we will do whatever we can to help them deal with the aftermath of their service. We will NOT permit your wounded and injured to be treated like we were. It simply will not happen ... not on our watch.
With every passing year, my desire to thank those who saved my life and the lives of many of my friends has grown. Military medicine is not like civilian medicine. If I'm seriously hurt in an accident on the way home today because some fool who is unfamiliar with my wife's wrath cuts her off on 494, the chances are very good I will be able to go back and thank the paramedics, the ER staff, the surgeons, the ICU nurses and the rehab techs responsible for saving what's left of my life. That's not possible in the Military.
When a soldier is hit in combat or is seriously injured in training, there is virtually no chance that he will be able to thank those who saved him. No one has the time to exchange names or telephone numbers so everyone can get together again and have a beer a few months later. Combat medics and dustoff crews are busy stopping the bleeding. Triage nurses are absorbed in deciding who needs treatment first. Surgical trauma teams are concentrating on dealing with life-threatening problems in the proper sequence so the patient can survive long enough to be transported to the rear. If the patient is conscious, the only thing he cares about is hearing an answer to the question he asks everyone who touches him ... "Am I going to die?"
By the time he's physically and mentally ready to express his gratitude to those who worked on him, many have moved on to other duty stations or rotated home. Maybe they are no longer in the service. Most likely, the patient has no way of learning their names anyway. I have no idea who or how many Military medical professionals worked on me in those first few weeks. I try to remember the faces and the names of the corpsmen, the nurses, the doctors, the techs and the therapists who treated me at Great Lakes Naval Hospital, but it's generally an exercise in futility.
The patients you have saved will someday be in the same position I am today. They will look back wanting to thank you because you saved them so they could return to their loved ones and have some sort of life that they would not have had except for your skill and compassion. Just as you are responsible for bringing countless Vietnam-era Veterans back from our self-imposed exile, and just as you are responsible for restoring an atmosphere of widespread Military support among American citizens, today you make it possible for me to thank you for what your predecessors did for me and the quarter of a million other Vietnam-era Veterans who were wounded or injured and survived. The reason I can thank you for what they did is because of the bond you have created between your generation and mine. And what makes today so special for me is that your families and friends are in attendance to hear it.
And so, on behalf of all of us from my war ... and from your war ... who have been on a litter in excruciating pain, or on a gurney praying we had enough strength to get through one more surgery, or in a bed on your ward making promises to God that we would be better people if only we could see our loved ones one more time ... I thank you for your skill. I thank you for your dedication. I thank you for teaching me how to walk again and how to eat again. I thank you for sitting next to my bed long after your shift had ended. I thank you for the calls you made to my home when I had a tube in my throat and the letters you wrote so I could sign my name to them. I thank you for looking the other way when my physical and emotional frustration reached the point where all I could do was weep in a temporary state of despair. I thank you for voicing your anger when some of my buddies didn't make it despite everything you did for them. I thank you for your compassion when you carefully prepared them to be returned to their families for burial. I thank you for your tears when you shook my hand to say "Goodbye" the day I was discharged to go back home, while you had to stay there and begin healing the next "me" that was being lifted into my rack at that very moment.
It makes no difference to those of us you have treated whether you were stationed in a forward combat area, a hospital compound in a safe zone, at Landstuhl or Pearl Harbor, Walter Reed or Bethesda, Fort Bliss or San Diego. We don't care if you never left CONUS. We know that all of you have seen the result of combat. We know that all of you have done your best to repair what happens in combat. We also know that we experience our particular situation only once, while you have to experience all of the situations over and over again.
You are the elite of the elite. You not only wear the uniform, you heal others who also wear the uniform. Just as I am using this opportunity today to thank you for what your predecessors did for me almost 40 years ago, one of your patients will hopefully be thanking your successors decades from now for what you did for him.
At some point, you and your families will ask if your service was worth it. If you have trouble with the answer, think about what you did for your patients and their families. Think about the people like me you put back together and the years of life we were able to live because of what you did. Was it worth it? All of us you helped would answer a resounding YES.
May God bless you and your families and may God bless America.
Thank you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THANK YOU, MILITARY MEDICAL PERSONNEL
I had a routine appointment at the VA Medical Center a few weeks ago and I stopped in the Smoke Shack for a quick cigarette before going upstairs to the Pulmonary Clinic. About a dozen guys were sitting there talking. A Vietnam Vet, a double amputee, was talking to two guys who had each lost a leg in Iraq. He jokingly said to them that he thought about re-enlisting after 9/11 just so he could help the next generation defend America. The entire room erupted in laughter. Then, he said, "It turned out you didn't need any help from us old guys."
He was right. You did not need our help. In fact, you helped us. Not only has your service and sacrifice enabled the other 99-percent of your fellow Americans to go on with their lives in relative peace, you have helped each and every one of us who served in the 60s, the 70s, and throughout the Cold War, to regain a part of our lives we thought was lost forever. And that's why I'm here today.
Those of us who wore the uniform back then have no idea how you did it. We have no clue why Americans who came together to support YOU suddenly started to recognize us as well. To our amazement, we had people walking up to us and saying, "Welcome Home" ... and they meant it. We had people walking up to us and saying, "Thank you for your service" ... and they were sincere. All of you here today, those of you wearing the uniform, as well as your families and friends, have somehow managed to reverse a trend that had become far too familiar.
Throughout our history, America at large, including Veterans from each major conflict, begin ignoring those who served or who still wear the uniform within months of the conclusion of the most recent action. Less than 10 years after the end of World War II, our Servicemembers who fought in Korea in the 1950s were forgotten while they were deployed and then abandoned when they came home. During Vietnam, things got downright ugly. In hindsight, we would have been happy to have been merely ignored. Instead, we became the generation of "losers" despite the fact that our forces won every single engagement of that war.
So, when Operations Enduring Freedom, Noble Eagle, and eventually Iraqi Freedom commenced, Vietnam-era Vets began looking for a way to support you so that you would NOT be treated like we were. But before we could figure out a way to accomplish that, you had already started helping us. Consequently, a bond has developed between Servicemembers of your generation and the Veterans of my generation that is without precedence in American Military history.
You are the reason my group was able to begin the Military Salute Project. You are the reason I was able to give three of my buddies the Military Funeral Honors they never had when we coordinated EchoTaps at Fort Snelling National Cemetery on May 19th. You are the reason I was able to stand in front of 23,000 Hmong-Americans at their Freedom Festival a few weeks ago to thank the Hmong Freedom Fighters and Veterans of the Royal Army of Laos for saving hundreds, if not thousands, of American Servicemembers and CIA operatives who likely would have died, including a friend of mine. You are the reason I had the honor and privilege of standing with my brother and sister Patriot Guard Riders several times this past week ... about half of them Vietnam-era Veterans ... to welcome home Minnesotans who deployed to the Sandbox almost two years ago. And, you are the reason I am able to stand in front of you today to accomplish something else I have wanted to do for years.
Because of my service-connected disabilities, I have been a patient in the VA medical system since I was 19 years old. I am reminded of my service every day. I am frequently around others who are likewise reminded of their service. Vietnam-era Veterans are now the majority of patients at VA Medical Centers across this country. One of the ways we attempt to repay what you have done for us is to make absolutely certain that we welcome your injured with open arms, that we help them however we can as they enter the next stage of the lifetime of treatment they face, so that they know we will do whatever we can to help them deal with the aftermath of their service. We will NOT permit your wounded and injured to be treated like we were. It simply will not happen ... not on our watch.
With every passing year, my desire to thank those who saved my life and the lives of many of my friends has grown. Military medicine is not like civilian medicine. If I'm seriously hurt in an accident on the way home today because some fool who is unfamiliar with my wife's wrath cuts her off on 494, the chances are very good I will be able to go back and thank the paramedics, the ER staff, the surgeons, the ICU nurses and the rehab techs responsible for saving what's left of my life. That's not possible in the Military.
When a soldier is hit in combat or is seriously injured in training, there is virtually no chance that he will be able to thank those who saved him. No one has the time to exchange names or telephone numbers so everyone can get together again and have a beer a few months later. Combat medics and dustoff crews are busy stopping the bleeding. Triage nurses are absorbed in deciding who needs treatment first. Surgical trauma teams are concentrating on dealing with life-threatening problems in the proper sequence so the patient can survive long enough to be transported to the rear. If the patient is conscious, the only thing he cares about is hearing an answer to the question he asks everyone who touches him ... "Am I going to die?"
By the time he's physically and mentally ready to express his gratitude to those who worked on him, many have moved on to other duty stations or rotated home. Maybe they are no longer in the service. Most likely, the patient has no way of learning their names anyway. I have no idea who or how many Military medical professionals worked on me in those first few weeks. I try to remember the faces and the names of the corpsmen, the nurses, the doctors, the techs and the therapists who treated me at Great Lakes Naval Hospital, but it's generally an exercise in futility.
The patients you have saved will someday be in the same position I am today. They will look back wanting to thank you because you saved them so they could return to their loved ones and have some sort of life that they would not have had except for your skill and compassion. Just as you are responsible for bringing countless Vietnam-era Veterans back from our self-imposed exile, and just as you are responsible for restoring an atmosphere of widespread Military support among American citizens, today you make it possible for me to thank you for what your predecessors did for me and the quarter of a million other Vietnam-era Veterans who were wounded or injured and survived. The reason I can thank you for what they did is because of the bond you have created between your generation and mine. And what makes today so special for me is that your families and friends are in attendance to hear it.
And so, on behalf of all of us from my war ... and from your war ... who have been on a litter in excruciating pain, or on a gurney praying we had enough strength to get through one more surgery, or in a bed on your ward making promises to God that we would be better people if only we could see our loved ones one more time ... I thank you for your skill. I thank you for your dedication. I thank you for teaching me how to walk again and how to eat again. I thank you for sitting next to my bed long after your shift had ended. I thank you for the calls you made to my home when I had a tube in my throat and the letters you wrote so I could sign my name to them. I thank you for looking the other way when my physical and emotional frustration reached the point where all I could do was weep in a temporary state of despair. I thank you for voicing your anger when some of my buddies didn't make it despite everything you did for them. I thank you for your compassion when you carefully prepared them to be returned to their families for burial. I thank you for your tears when you shook my hand to say "Goodbye" the day I was discharged to go back home, while you had to stay there and begin healing the next "me" that was being lifted into my rack at that very moment.
It makes no difference to those of us you have treated whether you were stationed in a forward combat area, a hospital compound in a safe zone, at Landstuhl or Pearl Harbor, Walter Reed or Bethesda, Fort Bliss or San Diego. We don't care if you never left CONUS. We know that all of you have seen the result of combat. We know that all of you have done your best to repair what happens in combat. We also know that we experience our particular situation only once, while you have to experience all of the situations over and over again.
You are the elite of the elite. You not only wear the uniform, you heal others who also wear the uniform. Just as I am using this opportunity today to thank you for what your predecessors did for me almost 40 years ago, one of your patients will hopefully be thanking your successors decades from now for what you did for him.
At some point, you and your families will ask if your service was worth it. If you have trouble with the answer, think about what you did for your patients and their families. Think about the people like me you put back together and the years of life we were able to live because of what you did. Was it worth it? All of us you helped would answer a resounding YES.
May God bless you and your families and may God bless America.
Thank you.