Common People...Uncommon Dedication

  • Published
  • By Col. Roger Wujek
  • 932 Medical Group
SCOTT AIR FORCE BASE, Ill. --  I was about 9 years old and in the fourth grade when I came home from school one day. I recall that day because in the evening Dad called me into the kitchen. There, sitting on the kitchen table, was my spelling book that I had brought home from school; it was turned over so the back cover was showing. He asked me about a design that I had drawn on the back, and I told him that I copied it from Eddie Harmon who copied it from someplace else. Dad asked me if I knew what it was, and I said that I didn’t know; it was just a picture I copied. I was raised on a small farm near Mendota, Illinois, the limits of my life experiences were the limits of the farm and the school I attended. I had no concept of the “world” outside our farm.

Dad picked up a ballpoint pen and began to slowly and methodically draw lines through that design (it was about the size of a quarter) and as he did, he told me of the sacrifices that he and 16 million other men and women made during an event called World War II. "Dad is 83 now, but he was about 38 then, and I can remember as though it were yesterday how he described a world at war and the dedication and sacrifices that men and women his age made for our country at that time. He told of how he and his two brothers left for a foreign country to fight a war against an evil power and how he sincerely believed when he left that he would never come home.

I can remember as though it were yesterday how he told me that this symbol, for him and many others, stood for everything that was evil in the world and that men like him were willing to die to crush what it stood for. He knew I didn’t understand what it meant, and he didn’t want someone from his generation to see what his 9 year old son had on the back of his spelling book so he said we must destroy the symbol.

I can remember as though it were yesterday, how when he was done talking and the design was nothing more than a blotch of ink, that he had tears in his eyes. Though Dad is prone to a slight stutter when he speaks; he stuttered not once that evening, and I knew from that moment, that the world was a different place for me. It was, by the way, the first and last time that I had ever drawn a swastika.

My Dad and some of your parents, grand parents, and great grandparents are veterans of World War II. Many of your grandparents are veterans of Korea. Many of us, as well as some of your parents, relatives and friends are veterans of Vietnam, Desert Storm, or another conflict.

Ask a veteran about his or her service during the trying times of our country. They will not often speak of it themselves, but they are the ones standing at the parades when the flag passes. They are the ones who cry during a particular song, or when watching a particular movie. I recently asked an elderly patient of mine I have known for the past 10 years about his service in World War II; he told me he was at Omaha Beach, Normandy, on D-Day. He had two purple hearts and four bronze stars.

Veterans are not all super-heroes. They are average people, with above average dedication to our country, who rise to the occasion when they must. They are willing not only to talk the talk, but walk the talk, and they understand the value of our freedom. We trace our heritage from a long line of dedicated men and women, and it is one of honor, dedication, courage and ultimate commitment. I am once again reminded of my responsibility and duty to continue this legacy. and am honored to serve with all of you.