Veterans Day will arrive again on November 11 Personal histories make some of us think especially of the veterans of Vietnam.

Like other Americans before and after them, they once put on a uniform promising to stand in harm’s way for their country and their country’s allies. Every one of them was a unique individual, but each one was also part of a composite that is all too easy to forget.

That composite can be embodied in one average soldier; let’s call him Johnny.

In World War II Johnny would have been 26 years old, in the Gulf wars and Afghanistan he was over 30; but in Vietnam he was only 19; at that time, not old enough to buy a beer.

On the whole, Johnny had been an average student. He had graduated from high school where he had likely participated in sports and might have had an old car he was proud of. He listened to music, whether country or rock and roll, and he had a girlfriend who had sworn she’d be waiting for him when he returned. Whether or not she did is an open question; either way, Johnny knew feelings

Johnny lost a lot of weight in Vietnam because he was working or fighting every day and often a night. He might not have been a scholar, but he could field strip an M-16 and reassemble it in the dark.

He could dig foxholes, navigate with a compass, apply first aid, and use his helmet for extra duties as a seat, a headrest, a water bucket, or a lavatory to shave in.

He could march until he was told to stop or stop until he was told to march and he obeyed orders even if he didn’t like them because of his determined spirit and sense of honor.

Johnny could look after himself, but he also helped look after those to his left and right.

He would save their lives, if he could; but Johnny was also the enemy of tyrants and would attack them where they stood.

Johnny would do twice the work of a civilian for a fraction of the pay and treat the discrepancy with a wry sense of humor. He saw suffering and death and wept for friends who fell in battle. Of that, he remains unashamed; even today, the trauma of it has never left him. All that and Johnny was just the average soldier; often frightened, sometimes brave, occasionally a hero.

These days, Johnny feels every note of the National Anthem as he stands at attention and uses the veteran’s privilege of rendering a hand salute. He tamps down the desire to correct those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove a hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, he has defended their right to be that disrespectful, so he merely clinches his jaw and wonders whether they are even aware of the blessing they have received from others.

Johnny is aware of that blessing because he helped provide it.

He asks nothing in return but some understanding and maybe a hint of gratitude. So, as you go to bed tonight, remember Johnny, the average soldier, Marine, sailor, or airman from that distant war in Vietnam.

He may be the old man next door, that graying ancient from down the street or maybe that balding guy next to you at the ballgame.

Johnny survived that war in the jungles and rice paddies and has gone on to many other things in life; but in his heart, he remembers the pains of war and even today is quietly proud to have served his country under difficult circumstances.