Part of this reflection included considering my own father’s service. He attended a military academy, and in June 1950 received his commission as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army. He was then drafted and served in the infantry in the Korean War. Sometimes called the “forgotten war,” it nevertheless claimed the lives of 36,000 American soldiers, with an additional 7,000 unaccounted for.

Eventually, as a first lieutenant he received the Bronze Star Medal for “Meritorious Achievement In Ground Operations Against the Enemy” during a 10-month period in Korea in 1952, serving with the 7th and 40th Divisions. The paperwork shows signatures from Robert T. Stevens, Secretary of the Army, and from the Adjutant General, United States Army Forces Far East Command.

Yet he never talked much about his service in Korea, except to mention getting sent to the front lines during the bitter Korean winter, with its subzero cold. There, night patrols in mountainous terrain near the 38th parallel and fear of having Allied positions overrun by numerically superior Chinese Communist forces left a lasting impression. Once the Chinese entered the war, they deployed nearly 2.5 million troops. They were known to use mass attacks, despite the heavy casualties these entailed, sending waves and waves of soldiers to their death in the hopes of breaking through Allied lines. My father worried about running out of ammunition or having their .50-caliber machine guns simply overheat to the point of failure if one hundred thousand Chinese troops attacked at once.

So there was physical suffering. And fear. But reading letters home he’d written I also found humor (encountering Texans constantly bragging about Texas) and kindness, reassuring his parents that all was well.

One benefit of his service was that he found his calling while deployed, and after being honorably discharged and returning to his home state of Indiana he used the G.I. Bill to pursue graduate degrees, at Indiana University and the University of Chicago. The hardships experienced in the infantry probably made the dismal-looking WWII Quonset hut he and my mother lived in seem the lap of luxury. A black-and-white photo shows the two of them in the grey dead of Chicago winter, framed by snowbanks and icicles, standing amongst a field of forlorn Quonset huts inhabited by other grad students. But they look happy, as young people generally do, regardless of circumstances, when they have each other.

The G.I. Bill was a great benefit for him, and intergenerationally, to my family. Some 70 years later, I’m proud that Weber State University excels at serving veterans, active duty and reserve service members, and their families. National awards testify to that: In 2021, the Military Times listed WSU #2 nationally out of 161 veteran-serving institutions, in its “Best for Vets” College Rankings. Today, according to WSU’s Military Affiliated Student Center, there are 817 WSU students using G.I. Bill educational benefits.

The G.I. Bill offers stability in a notoriously unstable profession. Active-duty members and their families can be uprooted at a moment’s notice, when new orders require a sudden move. This leads to “emotional whiplash” for families, as one WSU student, an Army National Guard sergeant, told me.

Those transitioning from military to civilian life face other challenges. The loss of camaraderie with peers is significant, for instance. “We see each other at our best and worst, and that forms a powerful ‘Trauma Bond’ which is difficult to replicate,” said the sergeant. In addition, and especially for younger soldiers, losing military benefits such as health insurance, regular meals, lodging and peer support can make the civilian world “seem like a lonely, dog-eat-dog world where no one cares about you.”

Fortunately, Weber State does care. The many services provided to military-affiliated students and families, such as mentoring programs, tutoring, and counselling services help keep these students in school and help them succeed in the next phase of their lives. And the portable benefits of the G.I. Bill, which pays for books and tuition regardless of institution, ensures that those who want to further their education can do so, even when they move around.

Thanksgiving is this week. I will be thankful for friends and family, and for everything that nature provides that makes the meal possible. And because it’s also National Veterans and Military Families Month, I will also take a moment to give thanks to our service members and their families for their service to the nation. Before your meal, perhaps you’ll join me in sharing that thought.

Hal Crimmel is a Brady Presidential Distinguished Professor of English who served for nine years as chair of the English department at Weber State University. This commentary is provided through a partnership with Weber State. The views expressed by the author do not necessarily represent the institutional values or positions of the university.