The most patriotic man I ever met, who turned out to be one of the loneliest men I ever met, was a fellow Marine in Korea who was a member of our platoon and a true proselyte for the American Way.
He had the Stars and Stripes painted on the back of his dungaree jacket, always snapped to attention when the flag was passing by and tried to get all of us to recite the Pledge of Allegiance every morning we were in reserve.
I can't even think of his real name now, 60 years later, but I think it was something like McDoogle because we called him Yankee Doodle McDoogle.
In reserve, you always knew where Fox Co. was encamped because he flew a small American flag from the peak of his tent.
He was from a small town in Texas and talked about his wife and infant son and sometimes his brothers and sisters and how close a family they were. He described his large house in the suburbs and even his dog Rusty, a golden retriever.
I'm not sure why I'm writing about him today except that it's Independence Day and Yankee Doodle McDoogle was certainly one of freedom's sons.
Forget that he tried to lead us in "The Star-Spangled Banner" once and couldn't remember the words, and forget that the painted flag on his dungarees was backwards, the guy was still a true patriot. He knew why he was at war. He knew how much he owed America.
We envied him in a way because he had a clear picture of the cause that sent the Marines into combat, and
because of his perfect life back home. Some of the guys had very little and weren't opposed to listening to McDoogle's tales of picnics, sunshine and a wife who loved him dearly. It was something they all wanted.
Loneliness is rampant to men at war. When it became time for the 7th Replacement Draft to be shipped home, we met the order with cheers. A troop ship called the William Weigel plowed through the Pacific on its slow and steady course until we could see the lights of San Diego shimmering ahead.
McDoogle and I were at the railing when the ship moved toward the lights, silenced by the wonder of coming home, when he suddenly said, "You know that stuff I told you about my wife and family? It was all bullshit. I have nothing. Not even a dog."
He walked quickly away after getting that off his chest and I saw him only infrequently as we were mustered out and went our separate ways. But I think of him now and then and wish I had told him that it was all right to have a make-believe family because even fantasy can ease a terrible loneliness.
If you're still out there, Yankee Doodle McDoogle, know that today at least you're not alone. We're all your family now.
Al Martinez writes a column on Mondays and Fridays.
