So what is it, a soldier thinks of in the field? The hot-rod that they’re going to build, their motorcycle, Oak St. Beach, a cheesy beef with giardiniera, bikinis and the girls that fill them, the New York Yankees, the Chicago Bears. And when they’re alone in their head they think of God, of redemption, of the afterlife but mostly of their family.
When they’re dying, it’s always their family. I talked to a man once who as a 19 year old stormed the beaches of Normandy. He wasn’t hunting German soldiers though; he was gathering Americans. His job was to sweep the beaches of the dead and he said that those that had not died instantly were almost always holding a picture of their family, their sweetheart or a crucifix or rosary. The dying that hadn’t expired yet would often call out to their mother or, the few that were married, to their wife.
They died thinking of loved ones as they remembered them in their most intimate moments – the comforting smile of their mother, the embrace of their lover, having a catch with dad in the yard, showing a little sister how to bait a hook.
More than a few Generals have described the formula of war as 95% sheer boredom and 5% abject terror. When a serviceman is deployed all they think about is home. There isn’t one of them who wouldn’t rather be with wife, kids, parents or sweethearts. Not a one who wouldn’t rather be tearing out a carburetor with his crew or going to a movie with his girl than showering in 120-degree heat with wet-wipes and dodging IED’s. But they go anyway, and they fight anyway, and some die along the way.
HOW TO REMEMBER THE FALLEN:
“Let us, then, at the time appointed gather around their sacred remains and garland the passionless mounds above them with the choicest flowers of spring-time; let us raise above them the dear old flag they saved from dishonor; let us in this solemn presence renew our pledges to aid and assist those whom they have left among us a sacred charge upon a nation’s gratitude, the soldier’s and sailor’s widow and orphan.”
- Memorial Day order from May 5, 1868 by General John Logan who called on the nation to decorate the graves of soldiers and sailors and to remember their surviving families.
I am not one to judge how others grieve or how others remember but I really don’t think there is only one way. Many times, I’ve heard or seen people chide those who just take Memorial Day weekend as a vacation period without acknowledging at all the sacrifices of better men and women who paid for our chance to suntan, burn some brats on the grill or throw back a cold beer. I know there are some who push a morbid stoicism on Memorial Day, but I’m not one for sackcloth and ashes. To hell with that, we’re Americans! We’re big, we’re brash and we can multi-task.
I say fly the flag to the top, salute, pray and praise and then party. Celebrate life, family, pulled pork and cold Budweiser. Relish all those things that our fathers and brothers wished they were doing when they were tending their trench foot and eating MRE’s.
Live to the hilt all those moments that they thought fondly of in their months of boredom. Live the life that they sacrificed and desired in their flashes of terror. Make their dreams our reality.
For if our brothers were here today, they would tell us, “you want to remember me today brother and bring me honor; then pull her close and kiss her long and hard; then lay in the hammock and hear the music of your children playing, ride the open road with the wind in your face and then remember me. Remember too that I’m not a granite statue or a charcoal sketch; I’m flesh and blood spent for others. Fill your glass and then drain it for freedom. And raise your children to do the same!”
Appreciate freedom in the myriad of opportunities that God has provided and the soldier has protected. Make part of the celebration an annual movie night and choose a movie that best reflects the warrior ideal. You’ll want to start with Mel Gibson’s We Were Soldiers.
Pick up the book Offerings at the Wall: Artifacts from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Collection and share it with your Sunday School Class or Boy Scout troop. Come to Washington, D.C. and ride with Rolling Thunder or simply visit the memorials thanking every veteran that you meet. Walk in the shadows of Arlington and praise God that you were blessed enough to have been born in the greatest country and among the bravest men and women that history has ever known.
So this Memorial Day, a gold-star mom will clutch a triangle flag to her chest and look through tear-streaked eyes on an empty bedroom; and this is good. A brother will show up at “the wall” in the twilight hours before the crowds and leave another part of the ’67 Mustang that his brother never had the chance to finish; and this is good. There will be countless barbeques, parties, drive-in theater dates and concerts — the pulse of America that makes our brethren deployed smile from thousands of miles away; and it will be good.
For this is the ultimate memorial: that whether you remember in stoic silence or top-of-the-lungs joy, never forget that the price of liberty is military victory and the cost of military victory is the blood of American heroes. It is rare as it is precious and it is to be remembered. Salute!
No comments:
Post a Comment