Whenever I am lucky enough to be around Combat Veteran's and they open up about their experiences, I shut my mouth and listen. Some of their conversations would give most folks chicken skin. And sometimes, they just talk about horrendous experiences as just another day at work. So here is one conversation I was lucky enough to overhear.

So picture a Korean Veteran, a Vietnam Vet, an Iraqi Vet, and Afghanistan Vet, all Purple Heart recipients. All just waiting to get some Lab Work done. None of them had known each other, but gave each other that head nod recognizing their Service.
So I point out the fact that those of us who served before 9/11 were all wearing baseball caps with: Korea, Vietnam, Cold War or a Unit patch on them. The other two Veterans were the youngest, and they were just in Civilian attire. And their baseball caps were John Deere and Pittsburgh Team caps.

So then we find out they were in Iraq and Afghanistan. And since we were all waiting to give blood, the subject of blood led to the discovery of how they were each wounded. Two were shot, three were blown up. And one of them, amazingly had been both blown up AND shot. Jesus.

As the story unfolded I was in awe. For the conversation shifted to the difference in how you got blown up, and whether it was worse to be shot, or blown up. And all of the ones blown up, had shrapnel still in their bodies! They laughed about how that makes it tricky when going through Security at the airport.

I hung on every word as they discussed the fine points, and pro's and con's of how you get wounded. One of the guys can't go in a pizza shop. He said the heat from an open pizza oven, puts him right back in the Humvee blown out from under him. The guy who had been shot, can't walk in front of a window, or open door. Then they all laughed when they talked about War movies when guys got blown up and people were yelling Orders. They all agree that when you get blown up, you can't hear Sh*t.
Then, like old people on a Cruise Ship comparing Gall Bladder or Appendix scars, they lifted pants legs, and shirts to show criss cross webs of scars left from multiple surgeries.

They never did decide if it was better to be blown up, or shot. But I can tell you this, as we got called in to get our blood drawn, everybody stood up and hugged the guy going in. And the amount of laughter in that conversation would have scared the bejesus out of most folks. I salute them all. Heroes. Every single one.