Tag Archives: Memorial Day

Thoughts on Memorial Day 2021

Every Memorial Day we pause to remember those who served and those who died in the wars that involved our country.  Not all wars are included.  For example, we make no mention of the so-called Indian Wars that did not end until 1924.  Perhaps the latter are omitted because even the most nationalistic American tends to look back at them with shame.   

We are right to remember those who served, whether as volunteers or draftees.  Most, even those who could not understand why they were fighting, did so as a matter of duty to one’s country, and for many, it was more then that.  They believed, or were able to convince themselves, that they were fighting to defend their country and the noble ideals for which it stood, even if they were among those groups of citizens who were denied the ideals for which they fought.  Despite 200 plus years of history “We the people” remains a promise, a goal, a work in progress towards which we continue to strive. 

We see evidence of the cost the veterans paid in the many monuments that are often neglected except on Memorial Day or July 4, and we see it in the physical scars that some veterans bear for the remainder of their lives.  Often overlooked are the psychological scars that haunt many veterans with memories of war that cannot be exorcised by pills, liquor, or counseling.  The pain suffered often extends to those loved ones who live with the physical and psychologically wounded, or with memories of loved ones who lost their lives in past and present wars. 

During the fall of 1993 I visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC.  It was very late during the night, and yet there were still people visiting the memorial.  Some were very emotional.  Perhaps they were looking for the name of a son, husband, or father who died while serving his country.  The average age of those who served in the Vietnam War was 22.  The youngest to die in combat was only 15.  His name was Dan Bullock.

Dan Bullock was an African American who dreamed of one day becoming a pilot, police officer, or U.S. Marine.  At age 14, he altered the date on his birth certificate to say he was born on December 21, 1949 rather than 1953, and joined the Marine Corps on September 18, 1968.  He arrived in Vietnam on May 18,1969 and was killed in action just 20 days later on June 7. 

It took a lot of courage for a young man–dare I say boy—of only 14 to volunteer for military service during wartime.  He had to have been physically strong for his age and a strong spirited individual to have survived Marine boot camp.  I cannot help but wonder what he might he have become had he not joined, or having joined, survived the war?

Memorial Day should be a day of mourning not a day of celebration.  Cancel the parades, picnics, sporting events, and trips to the beach or the mountains.  Cancel all the Memorial Day sales and close all the stores and even the restaurants.  There is nothing to celebrate.  We celebrate positive events—births, weddings, graduations, promotions, anniversaries, etc. etc.  War is insane!  War represents the worst in human nature.  Although it has been with us since the beginning of human history, and will no doubt be with us to the end of history, any rational human being would agree that war has no victors.

A friend of mine posted on social media the official statistics on how many Americans died in our nation’s past wars.  As one might expect, World War II had the highest number of deaths, 291,557.  More then 7,000 have died in combat since 2001.  But as I mentioned above, the number of deaths is only a small part of the cost a people pay for participating in wars. 

Instead of listening to the national anthem and watching heroic war movies, listen instead to antiwar songs and read the memoirs and poetry of those who know the true meaning of war.  I have been told, and I believe it true, that those who abhor war most are those who have experienced it. 

I did not serve in the military during the Vietnam War.  I tried very hard not to be a participant.  As a historian by profession, I have studied the history of wars throughout the millennia of human history.  What have I learned?  I am not sure I can answer that question.  I remain puzzled.  I read once that Leon Tolstoy wrote War and Peace in attempt to understand why so many men would march halfway around the world to kill a bunch of people they did not know or have any reason to fight.  Did he find an answer?  I do not know.  Tolstoy was a pacifist, but pacifism is not a rational answer, unless of course, everyone was to become pacifists.   And how likely do you think that will occur, given the historical record of human folly?

So, I sit here on this Memorial Day with no desire to join the celebrations or go out shopping in order to show my patriotic support for the American economy.  In the past two years I lost a very good friend and a brother-in-law, both of whom I would like to have known much better.  Both of them served as officers in the Vietnam War.  One was a Marine captain; the other a captain in the Army.  Both lived the remainder of their lives with the after effects of the war.  The one was wounded 5 times and carried pieces of shrapnel around in his body.  The other could never forget those under his command who died, nor come to terms with the feeling that the United States abandoned the Montagnards whom they recruited to fight the Viet Cong. 

One thing I do conclude, sitting here thinking about this Memorial Day, is that the line from the Roman poet Horace, “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,” * often quoted to glorify war, is a lie, a very BIG LIE.

Until next time, be good to all God’s creatures and live under the mercy.

*”It is sweet and honorable to die for one’s country.”

A Fallen Soldier Comes Home

Korean War Memorial

Korean War Memorial (Photo credit: inge87)

Yesterday evening I went to the airport to pick up my wife.  She was returning from a visit with her mother in Washington State.  Her flight was due in at 5:15 p.m., so I made sure to be there early.  I wanted to greet her at the gate, not just pick her at the curb like she was a piece of luggage.

Her flight was delayed.  At 5:30 those of us waiting were told that her plane had arrived and was at the gate.  I waited, and I waited.  No one seemed to be getting off the plane.  Just before 6:00 p.m. an ambulance arrived.   Several medics with a stretcher, oxygen, etc. went down the hall in the direction of the gate escorted by security.

As I continued to wait, I began to wonder, what happened?  Did someone on the flight have a medical emergency?  Was it my wife?  I continued waiting.  Finally, about ten minutes past the hour, the passengers began to appear.  Yup, there she was, the love of my life.

As we were going down the stairs to retrieve her suitcase, she explained what caused the delay.  There was a family on board accompanied by four soldiers.  They were bringing a soldier home from the war.  Yes, there is a war going on.  Soldiers on both sides, and many civilians—men, women, and children—are dying.

The people onboard the plane were asked to remain seated until the family disembarked.  It was a simple thing to do, a gesture of respect for the family and of course the soldier, also on the flight, but in the baggage compartment, in a coffin.

The family and the honor guard stood on the tarmac as the coffin was taken off the plane.  It was then that the soldier’s mother collapsed.  Hearing that, it was easy for me to understand why the passengers were delayed in disembarking and why there was an additional delay for the luggage to be unloaded.

While we waited at the luggage pickup, the four soldiers stood nearby with several family members.  The soldiers were in dress blues, numerous ribbons on their breasts, yellow strips down the sides of their trousers, and of course, those silly looking berets our soldiers wear these days.

While standing there waiting, I noticed one family member with the soldiers.  She looked young, perhaps a sister of the fallen warrior.  She stood there with her arms folded staring at the conveyer where luggage would soon begin to appear.  Her head was bent slightly forward.  The corners of her tightly closed mouth were turned down.  I could tell she wanted to cry, but knew she must not.  She had to remain stoic for the others.   Emotionally, I began to feel as if I could sense her pain.  I wondered what she was thinking. 

We celebrated Memorial Day only a week ago.  The news media was full of scenes of parades and politicians laying wreaths and making speeches.  I thought about writing something to mark the occasion, but simply could not do it.

I have friends and family members who served in the military.  Some served in World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.  I know others, some of them students of mine, who have served in Iraq and/or Afghanistan.  I have a great deal of respect for them, because they did what they believed they should do.  They were faithful to their convictions. 

When I think of war and all the suffering caused by wars, as I was forced to do yesterday evening, I have very mixed feelings.  War is insane.  To say that war is barbaric is too rational.  Do civilized people commit acts of genocide, fire bomb cities, drop atomic bombs and napalm on innocent people?  In every war the seeds of the next war are planted. 

Just in the past two days national news reported on massacres of civilians in Syria.  Men, women, and children, some of them burned to death in their homes, all of them sacrifices to the gods of war.  One news story told of how the suicide rate among our soldiers now exceeds more than one per day.  More are taking their own lives than are being killed by enemy action.

A friend of mine in graduate school served in Vietnam.  He was a graduate of Virginia Military Institute.  He was wounded just days before he was to return home, leaving him with a disability for the rest of his life.  One afternoon he showed me some pictures of him in full dress uniform at VMI.  Parading on the drill field, he said, was fun.  Vietnam was different.

That mother of the soldier who returned home yesterday evening will never get over the loss of her child.  The wife will never really be able to forget her husband.  Was the baby I saw in the arms of one of the family members the child of the fallen soldier?

The soldier-son-husband-father will soon be “laid to rest” as they say.  The honor guard will see that the funeral is dignified.  I expect veterans will be present.  They will play taps and even fire a few rifle shots over the grave.  The flag will be taken off the casket, folded and given to the widow.  Everyone will slowly walk away to continue living a life that will never be the same.

Don’t give them any of that rubbish about how he died for his country, or how he gave his life in defense of freedom.  Those are the lies that the makers of war tell the mourning.  Enough of that!

Wars have happened all through history, and they will no doubt continue to happen in the future.  I am sorry, but I cannot make sense of them.  Let’s cancel future Memorial Day holidays.  After all, they are only excuses for a day off from the drudgery of everyday life, excuses for picnics and parties. 

The poet Carl Sandburg said:  “Someday they’ll give a war and nobody will come.”  He was wrong.  There will always be those who for whatever reason will heed the call to arms, to rally around the flag, or to defend the fatherland.  “War,” said Bertrand Russell, “seems a mere madness, a collective insanity.”  Are we all insane?

I close with this song: 

Until next time be good to call God’s creation and always walk under the mercy.