Open Letter to Every Chartered Veterans Organization

All great veteran organizations are dying. Attend a meeting of the American Legion or the VFW and you’ll see an average age pushing 70, and a youngster, a veteran fresh out of the military is rare indeed. In fact, the youngest in the room are typically around 40 years old whose service may have been decades earlier and no less important than the veteran of 80 right next to him.

Are they glad to see him? Of course.

Are they excited to see a new face? Of course.

Are they willing to enroll the new veteran? Of course.

Are they giddy to give the new guy responsibilities? Absolutely.

Are they ready to give the new veteran authority and take the reins? Absolutely.

All this honors the veteran – so why are these organizations dying? Why have most halved in size when there’s veterans in communities everywhere that could sign up in an instant? Why has the American Legion lost literally half its veterans over the last thirty years? Why is the VFW a ghost of its former self? What is going on with chartered veteran organizations in America?

Betrayal.

Here is the true story of ONE veteran who tried the VFW and the American Legion, and may you be the judge of what happened.

2015. The veteran moved to a brand-new town in New York and walked into the local VFW to see what it was about. No one knew him, and he knew no one. He liked the people and they really liked him. The 33-year-old signed up immediately. He attended a meeting and was very welcome…they bought him drinks and after a few months he really felt at home in the VFW. He began to love the place, and it was not long before all the veterans in the place wanted him to take a leadership role. They saw he was young and motivated. They saw he might really change the place for the better and were excited about all of it. “You have breathed new life into this place,” they told him and it felt good. All the sudden he was not just the new guy in town, he had a circle, he had a place – all of it was good, and everything was positive.

They elected him to post commander. It was an amazing day for everybody - not one frown in the whole place. Suddenly veterans who had been in town for decades came down to the VFW. They heard there was a new commander, and they were so happy to meet someone who really cared, and who really didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. In the months that followed, he didn’t mind making the post meals on Friday for hundreds of people. He didn’t mind the small things and greeted everybody with genuine pleasure. He didn’t mind staying late to close-up, and he didn’t mind scrubbing the toilets. All of it was good, and at the end of the day it was worth it to see everyone in good spirits.

At the meetings he did most of the work, but he didn’t mind. They supported him most of the time, and any angst was gone the moment they realized all were friends and fellow veterans. The force of positivity is contagious. They retired to the bar afterward and laughed into the night. The small things were nothing. Times were good.

But some stored up the small things. Some people forget nothing. Some keep one idle word for a lifetime and stew upon it until they burst. Some gladly drink in the presence of the one they stew upon, forgetting all the little things that bother them at home and drink instead. Some overthink, some grumble, some gossip, some whisper. Some all of it, some none of it. Whatever came to the young commander he dealt with personally because he really cared – and they saw it. They saw he was giving everything and decided the small troubles weren’t worth it. Yet, even with these – it was a good place, a great thing that everyone - all the veterans had a place to be.

The walls were painted – some grumbled. The pictures were moved around – some hated. The ceiling was scrubbed of old tobacco stains and the smoke-sucking machines from 1980 removed – some said it was too fast. A picture was added by the commander – some loathed it. The meals weren’t as good anymore – some said the commander could use help. The old dart board was replaced by a fresh one – some said the commander should have asked. Yet, even when all these came to the commander’s ear it was worth it – all the people, all the veterans had a place to be. Worth it.

Then suddenly the commander was doing almost everything and asked for help – no one really helped. Then the commander ended up doing many other jobs because no one finished their own. Then the commander saw an issue with an employee, the ledger, the gambling machines, the free drinks some took from the bar, the ones that still smoked cigarettes inside when he wasn’t there. Then the commander…then the commander…then the commander…

Then one day he saw a big problem and took charge of the situation himself. He thought nothing of it because he was used to doing most things. Few ever really helped him anyway. Another veteran was abusing an employee, and he told the veteran as much - it was clear that the other veterans should know. Transparency is important. He called an emergency meeting, and everyone showed up.

It happened so fast. The things that some had stored up – things that they never told the young commander before all came out in public. Not in a direct way, but in rage and hate. Nothing was qualifiable, nothing quantifiable but the detestation of a few veterans that stirred everybody up. There he sat at the front table seeing something that he did not expect: faces who clearly were angered that their VFW was changing too fast - that the Legion was theirs before it was any of his. That the VFW had a history he knew nothing about of envy, jealousy, and hate. Not all at the commander himself even, but of everything and everyone. Decades of angst and anger in countless ways. Decades of hurt from this person to that. Decades of resentment of each new commander who tried to do something. He sat at the front of them and saw all of it, and suddenly it was upon him. It happened so fast.

An upstart stood and with planned precision called for a vote to utterly remove the commander. The vote somehow carried in a split room. The commander took off his hat dishonored. The room was empty save a few good friends who wept.

Later they sent someone to get his keys; the keys he used to open and lock up. The keys to the rifles he needed to perform gravesite memorials. The keys to the maintenance room where he put the mops and bleach at the end of the night. The keys to everything.

It was no longer his place. He was no longer honored. He was no longer welcome.

Betrayal.

Then one after another approached him out in town and said things like, “I should have told you how that place is…I should have told you about him/her…I should have told you what happened way back…I should have helped…I should have…I should have…”

After many years he reluctantly went back to the VFW with a few friends to have a drink. He looked around. Most things he changed were put right back. He didn’t really want to be there, but he wanted to be with his friends too. He was trying to be normal, and people were looking at him. Then an angry veteran approached him while he was sitting. Hate was in his eyes. He said something about dishonor. His wife ushered him away before anything could happen. The young veteran looked this way and that – all the faces of people that once supported him looking away. He left out the back door. He would never return.

It was many years before he would try to go to any other veteran’s organization. All of it hurt so bad he didn’t want to get hurt again. He was very careful because what happened at the VFW really scarred him. Yes, he made a few good friends even after what happened, but many hated him too. He didn’t want to be hated, and he didn’t want to give everything to any place or people that would betray him. 2016 was one of the darkest years of his life after what happened. He almost didn’t survive.

But they say time heals all wounds.

2021. The veteran moved to a brand-new town in middle of nowhere South Dakota and walked into the local American Legion to see what it was about. No one knew him, and he knew no one. He liked the people and they really liked him. The 39-year-old signed up immediately. He attended a meeting and was very welcome…they bought him drinks and after a few months he really felt at home in the Legion. He began to love the place, and it was not long before all the veterans in the place wanted him to take a leadership role. They saw he was young and motivated. They saw he might really change the place for the better and were excited about all of it. All the sudden he was not just the new guy in town, he had a circle, he had a place – all of it was good, and everything was positive.

They elected him to post vice-commander. It was an amazing day for everybody - not one frown in the whole place. Suddenly veterans who had been in town for decades came down to the Legion. They heard there was a new vice-commander, and they were so happy to meet someone who really cared, and who really didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. In the months that followed, more came to the meetings. For twenty years there were only three veterans who showed up at meetings and now sometimes there were fifteen! He didn’t mind the small things and greeted everybody with genuine pleasure. He didn’t mind staying late, and he didn’t mind buying drinks. All of it was good, and at the end of the day it was worth it to see everyone in good spirits.

But some stored up the small things. Some people forget nothing. Some keep one idle word for a lifetime and stew upon it until they burst. Some gladly drink in the presence of the one they stew upon, forgetting all the little things that bother them at home and drink instead. Some overthink, some grumble, some gossip, some whisper. Some all of it, some none of it. Whatever came to the young vice-commander he dealt with personally because he really cared – and they saw it. They saw he was giving everything and decided the small troubles weren’t worth it. Yet, even with these – it was a good place, a great thing that everyone - all the veterans had a place to be.

He almost forgot about the VFW.

And the Legion even honored him to appoint him to district-level vice-commander. What a day! Hundreds were in that room, and all were thrilled to have a young veteran at the helm of things. He and his commander had prevue over 29 hometown posts all across their district of over 500 square miles. For years he went to big meetings discussing big problems, and afterward all had a great time being amongst allies and friends. Drinks were all around, and no one was left out. Yes, he was usually the youngest in the room, but that didn’t matter. It was nothing but good and the Legion gave to all sorts of great causes which he had a hand in making. How rewarding! What a great time to be in the American Legion!

Then his commander got sick. Then all the sudden the young veteran, the young vice-commander was doing all the work…but he didn’t mind. It was worth it because the Legion was worth it. He visited the posts in his district, he fielded the phone calls, he made the speeches, he diffused the problems, and he even visited his sick commander and took on all of it because it was worth it. He is worth it. The Legion was worth it. Besides, it gave the young veteran a sense of purpose and it felt good. He was doing it for others, and that was truly rewarding.

But some people store things up like envy, jealousy, and hatred. Some store them up for no other reason than to just have them. If a man is good, people will envy. If a man is just, people will be jealous. If a man is handsome, people will hate. Then, some make plans to take someone else down a notch. Some flatter and deceive and accept kindness while working against the person who has no idea. Some exist to see the day someone else is utterly broken - utterly dishonored.

The district meeting was packed, and it was time to elect a district commander. Every two years is the cycle and many simply get re-elected. There at the table were four men from the same hometown – all friends four years’ strong. The young man was thrilled to applaud the newly elected district commander – the fifty Legionnaires in the room elected his friend right across the table! From his very hometown in South Dakota! Awesome! He was genuinely happy and could only imagine what good times were ahead. Everyone was glad to see it, and there were so many smiles and congratulations. The young vice-commander looked around and was genuinely happy to see such support. Awesome.

Now it was time to elect a district vice-commander. Every two years is the cycle and many simply get re-elected. There sat the young veteran who already had the office, and who worked so hard the past two years. He knew the job and did it well. Certainly, his newly elected friend across the table would stand to nominate the veteran who had already been doing the job. If they were so good a team in his hometown, certainly they would be even better at the district level!

It happened so fast. The things that some had stored up – things that they never told the young vice-commander before all came out. Not in a direct way, but in envy and hate. Nothing was qualifiable, nothing quantifiable but the detestation of a few veterans that stirred everybody up. There he sat at the center table seeing something that he did not expect - faces who clearly were angered that their Legion was changing too fast. That the Legion was theirs before it was any of his. That the Legion had a history he knew nothing about of envy, jealousy, and hate.

His friend stood and the young veteran’s heart swelled with pride that he would be nominated, and they would become a great team together. Everything pointed to it - obvious to all in the room that the man to be chosen would be, must certainly be the young veteran who had done so much already for the Legion and who already held the office. Everyone was ready for another hearty applause.

But it was not to be. It was not the young man’s name. It was not the name of the man who had held the office and worked so hard the last two years. He was shocked. Another one of his friends stood at the table he was sitting and also said it would NOT be the young veteran, and the other stood and agreed too…all three stood with their backs to the young man who shared their hometown and nominated another. They could not even look at him.

They looked away.

His world got small. His world got quiet. He entered a reality he could not imagine where people he called friends didn’t even give him a heads-up that they would not nominate him beforehand. He saw them only days before and all was well. Everyone was happy. He just sat with them the other night, and countless nights for four years sharing everything like friends do – no indication. No animosity - nothing. Right up until a minute before nothing was amiss. Nothing.

All of it flashed in a second.

And suddenly all eyes were on him, and he wanted to die. He was humiliated - betrayed again. He thought of the war. He wanted it back. At least in war things made sense. He could see nothing, hear nothing, he couldn’t speak or even breathe. People whispered, people looked away seeing the incredible divide that was a hometown in the middle of a room – peers who flatly denied the existence of someone who a moment before who had no idea what would happen. The clear embarrassment of the young veteran caused everyone to look away. Everyone. All eyes reverted to somewhere else, and his whole world – the whole Legion he fought for nearly five years departed from him.

He looked this way and that. He was dishonored. He hated himself. He took off his hat, his badge of office and placed it on the table. He stood, saluted the flag, and left out the back door.

Part of him died that day.

So, take this true story of ONE veteran over two horrible experiences and judge for yourself:

What is killing veteran’s organizations in America today?