ALL IN THE FAMILY: THE BEST OF MILITARY MEMORIES BY MAUREEN MORIARITY Special to The Star M ilitary memo- ries are some of the best and some of the worst for those of us who have served this great country. For me, military has been a family affair of following some mighty big boots. My grandfather came here from Greece and shortly thereafter joined the U. S. Army when World War I started. He fought in France and was injured there. One day, in 1959, he gave me a directive that I never forgot. “Give back to this wonderful country, Maureen,” he said in that wonderful Greek accent. “You don’t know how lucky you are to live in such a country.” He was so proud when his only son joined the Navy! My Uncle George was stationed in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese bombed — he survived, but was never the same. Years later, I felt I had not fulfilled the promise I made to my grandfather that day in 1959. I had vol- unteered and helped when- ever I could with any wor- thy community function… but not enough to believe I “gave back.” So, at almost 29 years old, I joined the Army Reserve and served for six years. It was during my basic training at Fort McClellan, Ala., that Iranian militants in Tehran took our embassy and approximately 70 Americans hostage. For this mother of three, that was an exclamation point as to why I joined the military. I served with some of the best people I have ever known. Most of the guys I served with were Vietnam veterans. I strove to meet their skills or expectations as much as possible — I think I could still be a marksman with an M-16 or take it apart and put it back together again. And I still remember how to crawl around on a tank safely with their clear, concise instructions ringing in my ears. They were special men and it was an honor to serve with them. They will always be heroes to me. Annual weapons qualifi- cation always seemed to fall on the coldest, rainiest fall day possible. I remember getting home from qualifi- cations still cold and wet. My then 7 year-old son, Greg, knelt down by me and helped me pull off those soaking wet boots. He told me then that he wanted to join the Army and wear boots, too. He also enjoyed telling every- one he could that his moth- er really did wear Army boots. My mother and father and my Aunt Helen and Uncle Ray met each other in Chicago during World War II at Navy Pier during a USO function. My dad was in the Navy, my uncle in the Air Force. Greg joined the National Guard while in college. He was in the early surge into Iraq, an engineer. He told me of one convoy story where a lead truck had bro- ken down. There were a lot of Iraqi’s then that were hungry. The troops shared what food they had when- ever it was safe to do so. Greg explained that most Iraqi men would eat first, then the kids, then the wives. But on this day, Greg shared food with a young Iraqi man and his two chil- dren. The man fed his kids first — then he ate. Greg was impressed by this young man and they both did their best to com- municate. Just before the convoy took off again, the man begged my son to take his little girl with him, explaining as best he could that it was not safe for his daughter in Iraq. Greg’s daughter, Claire, was about the same age as this little girl — around 3 years old. It saddened Greg that he could not help this little family. He remembers it still. It was hard to juxta- pose the opulence of one of Saddam Hussein’s palaces and the way most Iraq’s had to live. Once you have been in the service, any branch, you find you are part of an extended family that is warm and accepting — a very special bond. Shortly after I began working at Thermal Spray Technologies in the Sun Prairie Business Park, I learned that there were three of us veterans work- ing there: Daryl, a very tall, wonderful man who had been in the Air Force; Karen, tall and slender, had been in the Navy; and me — short and a bit pudgy, Army. One day, someone had emailed me a video about two older veterans — one Army, one Navy — who would try to out-do the other raising the flag each morning. Then comes the day when one of them does not show up — when the remaining vet realizes his Army nemesis was not ever coming back, he honored the other’s service branch and life. It was very touch- ing. I shared it with Daryl and Karen one morning. When it was over, I looked up at them, not ashamed that there were tears in my eyes, only to see tears were running down their faces, too. Even the big, tough Daryl was moved by the video, although he quickly tried to hide those tears. I will never forget that morn- ing and how three people who could not be more dif- ferent, shared something very special that those who have served and those who are serving, most assuredly understand. My grandson, Andrew, is now walking proudly in Air Force boots. It’s all in the family — one kind of family, or another. Maureen Moriarity, a past correspondent, now compiles Winnowings for The Star. WE SHALL NOT FORGET CONTRIBUTED PHOTOS ABOVE: Housecleaning duties? No problem for Maureen Moriarity, who was comfortable on a tank in this photo taken in early 1980’s. LEFT: This was precious time Maureen Moriarity spent with her son, Greg, before he left for Iraq as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003.