I remember the day my father, a Vietnam veteran, said to me, “I forbid you from joining a branch that is at risk of going into combat. I have seen enough for my three sons.” As an 18-year-old joining the military, I was determined to show him. I joined the Marines as a military police officer. I believed I would see action stateside and that it was a foundation to build a career once my service was up. “Every Marine is a rifleman” meant I could still be deployed regardless of my M.O.S.

I learned that military life is not like the movies. Marine boot camp was nothing like the popular movie every Marine recruit should watch prior to stepping on the footprints at P.I. I enjoyed every minute of it! Next was Marine Combat Training (before the Crucible) after graduation. I was ready to show my father what I was made of. Unfortunately, one step changed the trajectory of my life. While marching in the “5-mile” hump, I destroyed my ankle and had to have my boot cut off due to the injury. I was in rehab for six months; I could not walk without assistance for three months and surgery required three months of recovery. I was removed from MP school and placed in an admin MOS to aid in my rehabilitation. Any chance of showing him what I was made of dissipated.

My time in the military was limited. My attitude changed as I felt that I had let myself and my country down. My body did not cooperate with my mind and went against what I had perceived was honorable service to my country. I had to make the phone call and let my father know that I had failed. There was silence before he responded, “It’s not about what you do in the service, but that you are going where you are needed.” It did little to comfort me at the time, and for years I resented my time in the service and did not use the term "veteran."

26 years later, I received a package from my home that changed the negative into the “why.” I spilled the contents on my desk and immediately noticed the Purple Heart, which I knew about. There was another medal I was not familiar with, a Bronze Star. I called home and broke the rule of “Never asking what I did over there.” That call home led to the “why.” The medal was awarded for humanitarian efforts. Space limits describing the call home.

Through The American Legion, I finally get to show him what I am made of. There is no better cause than helping our brothers and sisters who served. That call home is now my "why." Find yours.