I spent a year

in the Tennessee National Guard. I've kept that fact a secret, even from

my closest friends, for many years.

I left active

duty with the Marine Corps in the spring of 1973 to return to college.

I graduated from East Tennessee State University in 1975 and, in 1976,

my wife returned to that same college and enrolled in nursing school.

With her not working and with two small kids to feed and clothe, I decided

that I needed a part-time job. After considering a number of options,

I signed on for a year of service with the National Guard.

After enlisting

and receiving my uniform and equipment, I began to prepare for my first

weekend drill. I had my fatigues heavily starched (we called them "utilities"

in the USMC and today they call them "BDU's"), and spit-shined

my new boots to a glossy shine. I even went to the barbershop to get a

not-quite-but-almost Marine Corps haircut. By the way, "Corps"

is pronounced "core" and not, no, not ever, spelled "Corp."

Please get it right.

I needn't have

bothered. When I arrived at my first drill, I was painfully out of place.

Every single National Guardsman, with the exception of the senior NCOs

and officers, looked like something out of M*A*S*H*. No, I take that back.

Even "Hawkeye" Pierce and "Trapper" John had more

discipline and military bearing than these "soldiers." Some

boots looked as though they hadn't been shined in a decade, the fatigues

of most looked like they had been slept in for a year, and military haircuts

were not to be seen. A couple of the guys actually had hair so long they

wore it in nets so that their hair could be hidden under their caps. Of

course, as I would discover, in the main, these were people who had joined

the Guard to avoid the draft and evade Vietnam.

Within a drill

or two, I was made "Training NCO" of the unit, which meant absolutely

nothing. After a few drills, the Company Commander approached me and asked

if I would be interested in going to National Guard Officer's Candidate

School. If approved, I would be immediately promoted to Staff Sergeant

and, after completion of OCS, received an NG commission as a 2nd Lieutenant.

I took the tests, was approved, and prepared to transfer to another unit

where I would be trained. But, as I looked around at the military misfits

that made up the unit, I couldn't do it. I decided I would rather be a

formerly active Marine than an officer in the National Guard. I thanked

the C.O. and, at the end of the year, happily departed from the Guard.

But that was

then. This past Thursday, I spent most of the day at Fort Benning. Spc.4

Anthony Thomson, a member of our congregation, and his unit were recently

activated as a result of the war with Iraq. The 190th Military Police

Company, which saw service in the 1991 Gulf War also sent members to Bosnia

to help keep the peace. Anthony was among those who served in Bosnia.

I decided I wanted to go to Ft. Benning and pray with Anthony before he

was deployed to places yet to be determined.

As I waited

in the barracks area, a military bus pulled up and the 190th, who had

been at a morning of training, got off the bus. I was stunned as this

group of physically fit, sharply dressed, and disciplined men and women

stepped off the bus. "This can't be the 190th," I thought to

myself. "These people look like soldiers. Heck, they look like Marines!"

But it was. I was impressed.

As I was introduced

to several of the members of the 190th MP Co, I met people who were proud

of their unit, proud of themselves, and proud to have been called upon

to serve their country. They were friendly, respectful, and carried themselves

with military bearing. Their uniforms were together, their boots spit-shined,

and their hair cropped close enough to satisfy a Parris Island barber.

I was impressed, again.

As I had lunch

with Spc4 Thomson, who leaves a good job and a wife and two small children

behind, I asked him how he felt about being activated. He expressed concerns

for his family, he said, but continued, "I really want to serve my

country. For all its faults, this is the greatest country on the planet

and I want to give