My Father and His Bracelet

The Bracelet

My father was  complex in many ways.  As I grow older, there are so many things I continue to learn about him beyond knowing him as just my Dad or the Colonel, but as a man.  As a child, if there was one thing that was unfailingly clear about my Dad, it was that he was unabashedly committed to his country.  His devotion to his job in the Air Force and to the others that served beside him, was an instrumental piece in who he was as a person.

My mother and I have often talked about our life in the military, and more specifically how this life has impacted my entire family and who we all are as people.  I take tremendous pride in the man that my father was, in his love for his county, and in his total dedication to serve and support this land that he loved.  I also feel this in all that I do, in my love for military history, and in my absolute desire to support, honor, respect and uplift our men and women willing to make this ultimate sacrifice.

Through the years, one of my greatest fascinations has always been the Vietnam war, and more specifically, the way we treated our soldiers lost, found, and as they arrived home. I feel like one of our greatest historical tragedies is that we sent these men and women to fight, only to turn our backs on them when they went missing or as they were found and returned home.  Instead of a heroes welcome, as a country, we failed... and not only did we fail them, we often failed their families and loved ones as well.  

Recently, reading a blog about my father's friend Lou, I discovered the Missing in Action bracelet. Someone, having found his bracelet in a pawn shop, had inquired about his fate on his MIA page. A small group of college students who were members of VIVA (Voices in Vital America) had set out to find a way to support our soldiers both our POWs and MIAs.  They created the idea of a simple bracelet with the name, rank, and date of each soldier that was lost.  http://thewall-usa.com/bracelet.asp

I told my mother about what I had read and she shared with me that she and my father both wore these bracelets although recalled that my Dad wore his all the time.  

Yesterday, I took these bracelets and began to search.  Somehow, just names, knowing these men were lost, didn't sit right in my heart.  In my search I discovered that the soldier on my mothers bracelet, Lt. Colonel Thomas Sima, came home, after 8 years as a prisoner of war he was released. The soldier on my Dad's bracelet, Captain Delbert (Del) Peterson was never recovered. He went down in battle and although a helicopter appeared, it only rescued three of the men and left him with the two men killed.  Upon return to retrieve Peterson and the two honored soldiers, they were unable to find him so his story ended here.  I thought a lot about him last night, what I had read, what I had learned about him as a soldier and a young man and I felt sadness for his loss. It has been 51 years since he went down, but as a way to honor him, and remember the man my father honored, I wrote this poem.  Let us never forget those who fought and died for this country we are so blessed and honored to call home.  Let us always be diligent and committed to remember and uphold their sacrifice. 

The Bracelet

It's just a simple bracelet

Your rank, name, and a date

The marking of your loss

The turning of your fate

Stainless Steel and worn

The promise to abide

A sign of human hope

Our country tried to hide

The wrist of my father

He wore your name in faith

Praying your return

A sign of human grace

Thousands of soldiers lost

A war of no rhyme or reason

But instead of our support

Our country committed treason

You left an American hero

To fight a senseless war

But our country turned their backs

Leaving a gaping scar

51 years ago

We lost you with the light

A dark battle in Nam

Not knowing your true plight

Three men retrieved

You left on the ground

Honoring those dead

But then you're never found

As the years have hurled forward

And the memories get lost

Please know that you are honored

For you paid the ultimate cost

And though we do not know

The story of your fate

Please know that we'll remember

Your name, rank, and date

And like my father before me

Who wore your name with grace

I’ll honor you the Captain

And take my father’s place

-Kristy Runkle Reuber

The First Day of the Rest of my Life

Today, my 46^th birthday, is a day I have feared for the last thirty-one years.  As a rule, birthdays don’t bother me.  I’m not afraid of getting older, or of all the flaws that seemingly come with that… no I am not as skinny as I was at 15, my hair is no longer naturally one color, and driving in the dark without glasses is now totally impossible.  However, so much amazingness has come with age… a degree, a beautiful family, a beautiful home, a job that I love, an understanding of a God that loves me beyond reason, and a place to grow roots.  For these things and so much more, age has been a blessing beyond any words I can put down on paper. 

Yet, there is such a burden in my heart about this day… simply understood, but complex in explanation.  Thirty-one years ago, my Dad was also 46… a beautiful family, a successful officer, a lovely home, and the realization that with the love of my Mom, this was the life dreams were made of and he was living it.  I often wonder if how I remember it is how he saw it.  Did he recognize the blessings of every day and how fortunate he was to be living them? Was he embracing the grace of God in those years for the blessing they were, as I can see them now.  In my reflection and knowing the man that my father was, he felt a great deal, but I always wonder.  If he knew, at 46, he would be leaving this all behind, would he hold it tighter, would he do it differently, would he say the words that needed to be said? 

I remember that day, and the weeks that followed, like they were simply a breath ago; the ringing of the doorbell, men in uniform, and total and utter fear.  In a flash of time, a single moment, life as we knew it was gone.  This man, my father, he was the foundation of my security.  And without a warning, he was not... and it was terrifying.  Words cannot explain the feelings of loss I felt on that day or the days to follow.  Your whole life, there are moments, as a little girl, that are intended for just you and your Dad... and in the blink of an eye, they had vanished, their potential lost.  Through funerals, memorials, flags half mast, twenty-one-gun salute, taps, and the final plane tipping its wing as it flew over heard, I felt the life I had slipping away. Even to this day, the number of people who came, the words spoken, the hugs and prayers from friends, the loving gestures, and even the simple kiss of a boy…they all stick in my mind like frozen snapshots on a page. 

I think, as I sit here on the first day of this 46^th year, that the loss of my Dad drives so much of who I am.  In all that I do, I wonder... is it enough, would it be enough to carry me on, even if I was gone.  More importantly, am I appreciating all that I have on this earth, all my blessings, in the way that I should?  In my heart, I know this fear is irrational. I know that this day is like any other day, and tomorrow will rush forward into another twenty-four hours. I know, without any shadow of a doubt, that my life beyond this world is far greater than anything I can even begin to imagine so my fears are not of what lies ahead, but of rather what is left behind.  My vow is this...on this day, I will work to put my fears aside and simply be reminded that if today were my last day on this earth, and there were no more days to come, that I should grab it and make tremendous glory from it. I should make sure that those who most fill my heart, should have no doubt of my words unspoken.  Today is a new day, praise God for each of these!