My uncle Lee Weeks was more than just an uncle. He was my friend.
We talked often and kidded around a lot. At least, until he was drafted into the U.S. Army.
He was in the 101st Airborne Division and spent four tours in the Vietnam War, which he would write about ... a little, and mail the letters to me. Of course, I was a teenager then. But when he came back the last time, Agent Orange had taken its toll on him and he suffered every time it rained. But he talked a lot more about what he had seen and been through when we were face to face. He talked and I listened.
Then, in 1973, I received a draft notice for Vietnam and he said that bothered him more than his pain. But, of course, when I reported in June, they sent me home saying the war was over.
My uncle was happy, but I was sad. All those talks had made me feel that I needed to do MY part ... to be like him. Wounded in combat many times, then the Agent Orange. But he never regretted his decision.
So, later I did join the U.S. Air Force, and I too went to war.
So, I remember my uncle every day (he is gone now); my only regret is that he was not here for me to write or talk to about MY experiences when I came home. I am happy I did my part. I just wish he had been here to see it.