Today two movers came to my house to move furniture to my younger
daughter’s apartment. One man noticed my
husband’s military history books.
“I was in the army for 10 years,” he said. “Four tours in Vietnam.”
I told him that I had just written a novel about that time
and I asked if he’d like a copy. He said
yes and asked if I’d sign it.
And he wanted the book signed to 1LT (first lieutenant) and
his full name. And then he asked if I’d
add that this was from the wife of 1LT Mitch Miller (my husband) and the words
“Welcome Home.”
“I didn’t get a ‘welcome home,’” he said. “I got called a babykiller by a Hare
Krishna. I pulled off his hair tail and
got thrown in jail only three hours after I arrived back in the U.S. Only time I was ever in jail.”
After the man moved another piece of furniture, he told me
he became a sheriff in LA County after that. But he decided to leave the sheriff’s department after the following
incident:
He had his gun out as he passed down the side of a house
looking for someone. An eight-year-old
boy pointed a .357 Magnum at him. “And
the only reason I didn’t shoot and kill that little boy was because I’d been in Vietnam. I’d learned to use my peripheral vision. And I saw that the gun’s bullet chamber wasn’t
in alignment.
“That’s why I got out. When I realized I could have killed that boy who didn’t know any
better. Just doing what his parents had
taught him.”
As the mover departed he said, “Tell you husband ‘welcome
home’ from one vet to another.”
Fighting back the tears, I turned to my daughter and said,
“Those feelings never die. It’s been so
many years and yet all he wanted was someone to say ‘welcome home.’”
Syndicated from www.mrslieutenant.blogspot.com
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