BROOKINGS The annual Veterans Day special edition that goes in The Brookings Register on or as near Nov. 11 as possible is a team effort. In the 20-plus years since that first standalone-edition, I admit that in may of those years Ive been doing all or the lions share of writing the local veterans stories that appeared in each issue. In some ways that was the easy part of each special edition.
Other Register staffers did the heavy lifting: editing, proofreading, layout work and the skillful placement of the stories, photos and ads using computer knowledge and skills that I have never mastered and as an old dog never will. In a Curmudgeons Corner this past September in which I invited the coming forth of some veterans with their stories, I hinted that this might be my last Veterans Day special edition. While Im not saying when I will step down from working at the Register, I see Nov. 11, 2026, as a long way off and beyond my 85th birthday on Oct. 13, 2026, inshallah. But perhaps it is time for me to heed the words of the Latin poet Horace, as French essayist Michel Montaigne used them so well: Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat. (Be wise in time, and unharness the ageing horse, lest in the end he fail ridiculously , and become broken winded.)
In a way, the Veterans Day special editions have never really been Register property. They belong to the many veterans serving in war or peacetime going back to World War II and who served and sacrificed in uniform for the United States of America. The stories they shared with the Register told only a piece of their lives: before they served, when they served and where they were in their lives at the time they shared their stories. Beyond that they moved on with their lives. I told no more of what their futures would hold.
Of course, many of them who served in World War II, the Korean War, and the earlier years of the Cold War are gone. That makes the story of 103-year-old World War II combat veteran Ron Peterson so memorable to be told. Now veterans of the Vietnam War era are in their 70s and 80s. After they told their stories to me we pretty much went our separate ways. Now, however, Im updating sort of retelling one of those stories that I wrote 22 years ago.
In April of this year, I wrote a story on Jerry Raabe, a Vietnam War veteran decorated for heroism who is battling Parkinsons disease. I briefly touched upon his war story and its relationship to Parkinsons and made a mental note that I would tell his story in-depth in this years Veterans Day edition. He was amenable to that and he came to the Register for an interview on Oct. 13 (coincidentally my 84th birthday). He didnt bring a gift or greeting, but he did surprise me.
He had with him a photocopied story with two color photos that ran in Salute to Veterans in the Tuesday, Nov. 11, 2003, edition of The Brookings Register: Staying and serving: Volga man who opposed Vietnam War decorated for heroism. When I wrote that story I was 62 and Raabe was 57; now Im 84 and hes 78. Its time to tell, or retell his story for our readers via a new story with a bit of cobbling together from the older two stories.
That being said, I thank all those veterans who shared their stories for past Veterans Day special editions. BZ (Bravo Zulu), well done to each and everyone of you who served and sacrificed for our nation. You paid your dues.
In addition to Raabe, six veterans shared their stories this year; each of them left me with a to-be-remembered takeaway: centenarian Ronald Ron Peterson is likely to be the last World War II veteran I interview, a member of that Greatest Generation, whose members are now few and whose remaining members continue to leave us with fewer each year; from Dan and Patricia Pat Mundahl, I was reminded that an Army, or any military career, can be a team effort; I learned from near-lifetime Volga resident Steve Dahl that he joined the Navy because the Army recruiter was out to lunch; when Ronda (Stangeland) Buurman graduated from Brookings High School and joined the Army, she was so skinny the recruiter had her eat and keep down a cheese pizza and six bananas so she could make the minimum weight standard; cavalry trooper and Army veteran Charles Mohler was an Army brat, the son of Capt. Samual Curtis Mohler, Jr; and finally, I shared with Navy veteran Mike Schmidt some sea stories about life aboard an aircraft carrier. He served aboard USS Oriskany (CVA-34). When my time for sea duty came up, I was offered Oriskany or USS Constellation (CVA-64). I opted for Connie. One thing for sure; his job was a lot more dangerous than mine.
Contact John Kubal at [email protected].
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