Thankfully, public attitude was vastly different during the war in Kuwait, better known as The Gulf War.  America would not again allow a vocal fringe element to vilify those who were serving on foreign soil, protecting US interests.  If there was any such movement in the beginning, it was quashed early on by an outpouring of public support for the troops.  But then again, the draft had been rendered toothless by that time.   We had an all volunteer military.  The would-be draft dodgers didn’t have to protest to justify their lack of participation.  They could just sit back and let someone else "carry the water", without fear of reprisal.

As if to atone for the shabby way America had treated its Vietnam vets, cars everywhere sprouted bumper stickers saying "We Support Our Troops In Desert Storm."  Our leadership in Washington had marshaled the support of our congress and the American people, as well as our allies before committing troops to battle.  Then we went in with single-minded purpose: to "kick butt" and win the war!  We had learned much from our mistakes in Vietnam. We pulled no punches, hitting them with everything we had in our conventional weapons arsenal.  The conflict was short, and loss of American life was minimal, given that our forces had to contend with a hostile army of millions.

We were an irresistible, overwhelming force.  Iraq’s "Mother of All Battles" turned into the "Mother of All Retreats" for them.  In spite of the complaints of some that we didn't go far enough, we did accomplish our stated goals; the liberation of Kuwait from the domination of a merciless dictator, and the assurance of the continued flow of all-essential crude oil to the free world.  This time, we had done it right!  It proved once again what America’s military was capable of doing when it is allowed to fight to win. It was a sweet victory, a kind of revenge for the political defeat we had experienced in Vietnam.  It was much needed balm for the wounds of a nation that had experienced too many insults and humiliations in the eyes of the world in recent times.

When our troops returned victorious, a grateful nation welcomed them as heroes and honored them with ticker tape parades.  Win, lose or draw, this is exactly as it should be.  These young men and women were accorded the appreciation and honor that they deserved for their service.   America seemed determined not to commit the same grievous mistakes it had made during the Vietnam era.  For the nation, it was a giant step toward recovery from the wounds left by the Vietnam War.   There was a resurgence of pride in America, along with an appreciation of our military as the cornerstone of our security and freedom, and of freedom throughout the world.

What does all of the foregoing have to do with our road tour of America? Nothing, directly....but, for me, part of this long delayed trip had really been a pilgrimage.  It was a return to many of the places I had been during my Stateside military duty.   I'd come full circle in a 30 year journey.  Memories that had dimmed with the passing years had already begun stirring long before we reached this point.  Now I was almost overwhelmed by it all. As we watched this display honoring our war dead, memories of the war and its aftermath came flooding back in a tidal wave of emotion.  Feelings I’d buried deep inside after the war resurfaced and were given new voice in my consciousness.  They had been eating at me from the inside all these years without my fully realizing it or acknowledging them.

The somewhat vague, mixed-up emotions I had about the war and that time in general began to coalesce into solid form, so that I could hold them, turn them over, and analyze them in my mind’s eye.  Not all of them were logical, but all were real, nonetheless.  Along with an abiding, unshakable pride in having served my country were still lingering feelings of anger and resentment for the way we had been treated by our fellow Americans.  There was an emptiness, an unfulfilled longing for validation and assurance that our sacrifices had not gone unappreciated.  And within me were also many regrets...... Foremost was regret for the futile, seemingly meaningless loss of life on all sides.  There was the regret for our failure to accomplish the good that might have been, along with feelings of inadequacy engendered by that failure.  "How could we have failed in such a noble endeavor?"..... There was the guilt I felt for some of my own actions, and there was the survivor's guilt I felt at having returned unscathed, when so many others did not.  "Was my sacrifice worthy in light of what they gave?  Had I given enough of myself?"  Finally, there was the shame I felt for the acts of others that were entirely beyond my control.

Through it all, it was abundantly clear that I and all the others who unselfishly served in that war had been utterly betrayed by our government and by our own generation.  I was ashamed of the way our nation had conducted itself in that war.  My pride in country, in my own generation, and in the American people had suffered greatly for it.  I certainly will never forget it.  Whether I will ever completely forgive, only the passage of time will tell.  I doubt I’ll ever be able to let it go entirely.  Some scars will always remain.  The one small consolation is, at least we as a nation seemed to have learned something from it.  And it's a lesson well worth remembering.  For as long as we do, we will remain resolved to have no more Vietnams.

Notwithstanding all of that negativity, now, at this time, in this place, for me it was uplifting to look around and witness the patriotic pride welling up in the thousands gathered here, especially among the young.   Had it not, after all, been mainly the youth of America that had so disparaged my service to country, the uniform I had worn and the flag I had sworn to defend?  I guess I had assumed that, like much of my own generation, the youth of future generations would continue to spurn patriotism, sense of duty to country, and national pride as evil things.  Perhaps there was hope for the future of America after all!  In a strange way, this celebration of America was to me, the ticker tape parade, the hero’s welcome that I had been denied on my return so many years ago.  For I ultimately felt buoyed up by it, and I was reassured that patriotism is not dead in our people.  Had it only been sleeping these past thirty years?  Maybe it had been there all along in most, residing quietly under the surface.  I guess I just needed to see it demonstrated openly, enthusiastically, and unabashedly by this multitude.  For this was a multitude of strangers who had come together to celebrate our nation's independence and, for a few moments at least, had been truly made one, made whole again by a common love of country.

The fireworks display waxed in intensity, until at last, it exploded in an eye-dazzling, ear splitting crescendo of light and sound.  It was without a doubt, the best Fourth-of-July celebration I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience.  For all of us, it was a most fitting finale to our tour of the Great American West.  And for me at least, it was also a beginning - a beginning of coming to grips with the ghosts of the past.