Never Welcomed Home Pt. 02

"A few now and then around town. Why are you asking?"

"I want to get the old group back together for one last mission."

"Steve, I don't understand. What mission? What are you talking about?"

I told him my plan.

Three weeks later, twelve Viet Nam vets stood in the terminal of the Minneapolis International Airport along with fifteen members of V.F.W. Post #22. I had done my homework. Today there would be four planes coming in that would have returning soldiers on them. When the troops flew back from overseas, friends of mine notified us what airlines and flights they would be on.

We broke into smaller groups, making sure we had all three concourses covered. Twenty minutes later we saw eight men in uniform walking towards the baggage claim area. We walked up to the group, handed each a small American Flag, and shook their hands.

"I want to thank you for your service," I said, and saluted each. To a man they were taken aback. Some smiled, some eyes on both sides were wet, and a few hugs were exchanged. That day, every man and woman in uniform we saw was thanked for his or her service to our country. We began to meet every flight of returning warriors.

Word of what we were doing spread. Other V.F.W. posts and military groups joined in the effort. About three weeks after I started the campaign, Becky came with me to the airport. She watched from a distance, holding our inventory of American Flags.

When I ran out of flags, I went over to grab a few from her. The kiss I received reminded me of the picture taken in Times Square at the end of World War II, only in reverse.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it." I got another kiss.

"Stephen Moore, you can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but you're a good man. Never forget that."

I never did. And, my fellow vets and I never let another serviceman think he wasn't appreciated when he returned home from war.

The demons weren't gone, but I had finally put then to rest. I had won.