The worst of long days? Who can say? Depends on where and who you are. And did it affect your life and where your live? My first awareness of wars came on a Sunday in December of 1941. It was a day that started just fine for the family of Bullards that lived in the little backwater town of Centrahoma. A Sunday, that we had the temporary preacher (and his large ravenous family) for dinner—just as we had for three previous Sundays. As we sat around the

As we sat around the large round table for Sunday dinner Mom said harshly, “Cecil, why don’t you turn off that radio?” “Dad told her, “the Japs are bombing Yahoo.” I didn’t know where “Yahoo” was, but dad wasn’t about to turn off the radio. That night the First Baptist Church of Centrahoma found itself on its knees fearfully praying for delivery and victory.

That was, I suppose, my worst personal war. It seemed to last forever and before it was over in 1945, a lot of young men had been laid to rest in Coal County Cemeteries and the world badly damaged. Then, America quickly disarmed and let out a collective sigh of relief, sure there would never be another war.

In 1944 my family had moved up SH-3 to Stonewall where my family operated a movie theatre. One nice soft summer night in June of 1950, I stepped outside the movie and was enjoying the moment. The big marque lights had been turned off, but I saw several boys and men sitting on their car fenders making serious talk. It was all about an unknown place called Korea. The Koreans from the divided off North section of the country had just invaded the South part. Some of the loafers belonged to the 45 th Army Division and were wondering if it would affect them. They found out the next day. President Truman quickly mobilized the Guard and sent them out. And we soon found out a lot more about Korea. An armistice was signed in July 1953, but the war has never really been over. Even to this day. We have 55,000 dead American boys out of this weird and unnecessary conflict.

In 1954, I had reached draft age and I went in for a four year tour in the US Navy. I won’t go too much into that except I found that the Korean Army carried grudges, shooting at my Navy Aircraft Carrier and/or our aircraft whenever we or our airplanes got too close. We patrolled off a place called Haiphong, too. Reason? Setting up for the next war. By November 1955 we were bogging ourselves down for another 10 years. In Vietnam.

This war got a lot more of our people killed. It changed the political nature of America forever and created a county full of disabled-mangled vets clumping around the VA up at Oklahoma City. Like the other vets of that confusing time, I tried to put the wars behind me. But the national debate and fallout from those turbulent years persist. In the meantime, I moved back to my birthplace, Allen, and practiced Pharmacy for 30 years before I retired.

One morning on a grand September day, I was, getting ready for another leisure day as I walked into my den to turn off the TV but, something caught my eyes and ears. The events of the attacks on the Trade Towers in New York City were being displayed. Later I watched in shock as the carnage continue at the attack on the Pentagon. Then they gave a live TV shot of the White House grounds. It showed panicked uniformed maids and other staff fleeing the White House. They had been told another attack was imminent and at this moment I wondered where the President was.

I knew there wasn’t anything I could do so I went to the Quick Pic to air up a tire. I noticed lines forming up to get gas and some had cans. It was a panic for gasoline. Indeed. America was at war—again. I guess it still is. So, keep your gas cans full, and go to church Sunday.

While you’re at it, say a prayer for America. And oh yes, I still enjoy hearing from my readers.