What a difference a year makes. Last year I wrote an introduction for this annual post in which I deplored then President* Pennwyise’s indifference to veterans despite his so-called super-patriotism. And that was before his “suckers and losers” comments led to one of my most scathing posts of 2020, My Uncle Was A ‘Loser’.
This year, Joe Biden is doing what presidents customarily do. Marking this holiday with the solemnity it deserves. Thank you, Mr. President.
It’s also a solemn day at Adrastos World HQ. The woman who brought the man I honor annually into my life died last Friday at the age of 99. I wrote about my mother-in-law turned “outlaw” Louise Allen Cobb Couvillion in the 2019 edition of my annual Thanksgiving post. She was an educator with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. Her passing is the period at the end of a long and glorious sentence. She will be missed, especially during the holidays.
Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
There’s nothing like a national holiday to make one feel ritualistic. This post is making its eleventh annual appearance at First Draft. It was also published in our anthology, Our Fate Is Your Fate.
I realize it *should* be posted on Veterans Day since my remembered soldier survived the war BUT old habits are hard to break. Besides, I would face the wrath of both Athenae and Dr. A if I didn’t post it. So, here we go again:
The veteran I’d like to remember on this solemn holiday is the late Sgt. Eddie Couvillion.
My family tree is far too tangled and gnarly to describe here but suffice it to say that Eddie was my second father. He served in Europe during World War II, not in combat but in the Army Quartermaster Corps. In short, he was a supply Sergeant, one of those guys who won the war by keeping the troops fed, clad, and shod. Eddie was what was called in those days a scrounger; not unlike Milo Minderbinder in Catch-22 or James Garner’s character in The Great Escape.
Eddie’s favorite military exploit was running an army approved bordello in France after hostilities ended. He always called it a cat house and bragged that it was the best little whorehouse in Europe. One can serve one’s country in manifold ways…
Eddie died 5 years ago  and I still miss him. He was a remarkable man because he changed so much as he aged. When I met him, he was a hardcore Texas/Louisiana conservative with old South racial views and attitudes. At an age when many people close their minds, Eddie opened his and stopped thinking of black folks as a collective entity that he didn’t care for and started thinking of them as individuals. Eddie was a genuine Southern gentleman, so he’d never done or said an unkind thing to anyone and confided to me that the only one he’d ever hurt by being prejudiced was himself. I was briefly speechless because we’d had more than a few rows over that very subject. Then he laughed, shook his head and said: “Aren’t you going to tell me how proud you are of me? You goddamn liberals are hard to satisfy.”
Actually, I’m easily satisfied. In 2004, Eddie had some astonishing news for me: he’d not only turned against the Iraq War but planned to vote for John Kerry because “Bush Junior is a lying weasel and a draft dodger.” That time he didn’t need to ask me if I was proud of him, it was written all over my face. It was the first and only time he ever voted for a Democrat for President.
I salute you, Sgt. Couvillion. I only wish that I could pour you a glass of bourbon on the rocks and we could raise our glasses in a Memorial Day toast.