By: Jim Lavalley

‘My father was an enlisted radio man in the US Navy who served on a group of four minesweepers in the Caribbean during the Cuban Missile Crisis. He only wore a uniform for a few years, but I can recall the stories he told me. Some of his tales supported the rollicking Hollywood view of sailors of the time. For example, he enjoyed regaling our family with the fact of how he was promoted to NCO twice. Apparently, while writing his fiancée a letter, a certain loudmouthed lieutenant (JG) made disparaging comments about her. The lieutenant found himself flat on the deck of the ship. As Dad’s luck would have it, the commander of the ship witnessed the entire event and “busted” them both. He regained his rank later, and the fiancée in question became his wife and my mother.

Despite a few more events of similar character, he also told me of what it was like to be in the middle of a wide open sea while the US Navy stood toe-to-toe with their Soviet counterparts. During one occasion, my father had to keep his Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) trained on a surfaced Russian submarine. Knowing just how tense the times were, I realized the great responsibility he carried. Had he, or many others like him, made just one untimely mistake, World War III would have been a real possibility. It was then I understood the true nature of heroism and the military personnel who embody it. I also then saw my Great Uncle Alvin, the source of my middle name, in an entirely new light. Uncle Alvin lost his leg in World War II. He and my father became two of my heroes.

As a kid, although I respected the military, I never really considered becoming a part of the Armed Services. I hadn’t been exposed to the military in a personal way, which was unfortunate. Growing up in the 1970’s didn’t help my attitude toward uniformed life, either. My naïve belief that the military was for less capable people made me turn down an offer to attend the Air Force Academy, a mistake I regret to this day. My college career consisted of missed classes and fraternity parties, resulting in my exit from that pursuit. I then was forced to consider entering the workplace or visiting the Army recruiter with my younger brother. I chose the latter. It was the smartest decision I ever made. Dad was proud of us both for enlisting, but the Army was well outside the realm of his experience. His advice was limited to “Don’t volunteer for anything”, “Shut up and do what they tell you”, and “Stay out of trouble”.

Dad’s advice was from his own era. Beginning as a combat medic, I later learned that his advice wouldn’t always apply, and when it did, I was often too stubborn to follow it. It was obvious that I had inherited some of Dad’s traits after all. Somehow though, I made it through twenty years, retiring as a Chief Warrant Officer Three. The Army tempered most of my undisciplined, disorganized, unrefined self into a semblance of functionality. It wasn’t an easy road. There were mistakes. Early in my career I missed a chance to get into West Point – another regret – because I couldn’t get my college transcript. I nearly took an early

retirement when I couldn’t get an advanced aircraft transition. I was passed over for promotion once. But I kept going. In the end, I found that I had completed an enviable career as a combat helicopter pilot, with a few stories of my own to tell.

Now it’s my turn. Last year, when my daughter reported that she had also enlisted in the Army.  I was bit surprised, but no less

proud than my father had been. I was concerned that she was joining the Army to please me, not to follow her own dreams. My wise daughter reminded me that, unlike me, she had grown up around the Army. This was where she was most comfortable. She was also the same young lady who persevered and became a Taekwondo Black Belt two years earlier, so why did I have doubts about her veracity and capability?

Oddly (predictably?) enough, my daughter has started much like I did, as a combat medic. She had some setbacks in training, due mainly to injuries, but continued onward to graduate recently and be assigned to her first duty station. Like her own Dad, she kept going. She calls often to ask for my advice, and I relish it every time she does. It’s wonderful to have useful advice to share. She’s already doing well. Like her predecessors, she has her own surprises. While in training, she met and married a fellow soldier, telling my wife and me four days after the fact. Given our family history, I was unsurprised (my wife was speechless). So now I ask myself, “Who knows what stories this twist will bring?”

I also wonder how soon it will be before the next generation has its own stories to tell.