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By Arthur Wiknik, Jr.

In the spring of 1968, I was 19 years old and living the ultimate teenage life. I had a good job, a new car and a steady girlfriend whom I was crazy about. However, that was all put on hold when I received my draft notice ordering me to report for induction into the US Army.

Upon completion of infantry training, I was sent to Vietnam for one year, where I served as a combat squad leader. Life in the steamy jungle was miserable. In addition to being far from home, soldiers also contended with the enemy, snakes, voracious insects and oppressive weather conditions.

However, the one thing that keeps soldiers going is support from home, primarily in the form of mail. During the first half of my tour, I received letters from my girlfriend nearly every day. Her devotion sustained me and kept me focused. As a result, hardly a moment went by when I did not dream of the day when I would return home so we could get married.

As I entered the second half of my tour, her letter writing dwindled to the point where several weeks would pass without a word. When an occasional letter did arrive, it read like a high school homework assignment. The passion was gone, and some of the topics were of places and events that I had never heard of. It was obvious that my girlfriend had found someone else.

I was devastated at the realization that I no longer had someone waiting for me. My morale quickly fell to an all-time low. I had trouble concentrating and often took unnecessary risks because I no longer cared if I would survive the war.

Then one night, a fellow soldier handed me his luminous Mickey Mouse pocket watch so I could keep track of my guard shift in the dark. I stared intently at the timepiece as Mickey smiled back at me. I began to think about when I was a kid and how much I loved sitting in front of the television after school to be entertained by the Mickey Mouse Club. I thought about sitting in my parents’ home where I was warm, safe, well fed and carefree. I thought about the neighborhood kids and all the fun we had playing baseball, ice skating and camping in each other’s backyards. I even missed my father yelling at me.

Suddenly, something magical happened. All my anxieties vanished. I looked again at Mickey’s silly grin. It was a grin that seemed to tell me not to worry because everything was going to be okay. I smiled back with a nod, as if I was actually communicating with Mickey. I still had to complete a danger-filled tour, but that pocket watch made me care again and gave me the confidence to survive the war unharmed.

Shortly after returning home from Vietnam, I purchased a Mickey Mouse wristwatch, and I have worn one ever since. I wanted to have a constant reminder that no matter how many obstacles life sends my way, no matter how bleak the situation, things could be worse, so I am thankful to be alive.

A luminous Mickey Mouse pocket watch on a dark lonely night did that for me.