Second Air Force wrote:
Dad always said he was "just a mechanic" that only followed the Division around and fixed knocked-out equipment.
yeah right. And got sniped and shelled and worked on the equipment in the same horrible weather we dealt with, only he had a wrench in his hand and busted knuckles all the time from tools slipping in the rain and worked longer days than us and had to pull guard on his camp when he wasn't working on equipment.
I mean, I slept in the mud and got shot at and mortared once or twice, and ate crappy food. How is any of this any different than what your daddy had to do? Not a thing, except maybe I got shot at more, and got crotch rot instead of busted knuckles from sleeping in mud puddles.
I think the problem with calling yourself a hero, besides it's embarrassing, is that you remember how stupid you felt. You know, I was always in trouble with someone or feeling a little out of control (which is normal in a combat zone I guess).
My last tour in Yugoslavia I came home from a mission and got in trouble with some asshat smaj for not having my hat on, and my hat was somewhere in Serbian Republic territory, and I couldn't go back to get it no matter how much he yelled at me. And there's the time I woke up from a nap because we were taking rounds, yanked my rifle up, thumbed the selector switch, and because I was dopey and sleepy, I pressed the eject button on the right side of the magazine feed. And then watched my mag drop out and bounce away on the ground while everybody else was looking at me to tell them what to do. We all laughed and it helped calm us down for a minute, but it was still embarrassing as hell.
It was always the guys around me who always knew what to do when I didn't, and had a pack when I was out. And fed me fried balogna sandwiches at 3 am... And flew me around. And fixed my HUMVEE when it broke down and there was awlays ALWAYS some poor bastard standing at the POL point in the middle of the night waiting to help me fuel it up.
Getting shot at doesn't make you a hero. Suffering so that others don't have to makes you a hero. So in my book that makes guys like your daddy heroes to me.
Back to your trailer: what kind of paint are you needing? Way back in the day I had a neighbor who made freinds with his local guard unit commander, and they pained his jeep for him, and he would go out with them when they made appearances every now and then. Maybe your local Air National Guard Unit could swing you a deal?