Memorial Day

Memorial Day in the United States is celebrated annually on the last Monday in May.  When one considers the solemnity of the occasion, it’s difficult to view it as a celebration or a holiday as one generally views such things.  It is the day that this country has officially designated to honor its soldiers that never returned from war.  Whether that war was ever officially declared (think World War II) or not (think Korea or Viet Nam or the current deadly exercise in nation building from which the U.S. is now trying to disentangle itself), these people demand our respect and remembrance. 

It is not my intention to discuss the merits of one war or another.  They are all lethal to far too many.  And however one may feel about war in general, one cannot argue that it is not right to commemorate the lives of those who “gave the last full measure of devotion,” as Abraham Lincoln noted.  Arlington National cemetery in Washington D.C is filled with the earthly remains of young men and women who believed in something bigger than themselves, went to serve, and never returned.  A thousand smaller veteran’s cemeteries dot the U.S. and other countries where the same kind of courageous people now rest.  The names of most are known, while tragically, others are not.

Flags are seemingly everywhere on this day in the U.S.  Little ones line the streets of small towns.  Larger ones wave from monuments and are flown at half mast from official buildings and flag poles.  It is a sight that touches most Americans in a special way.

When asked how, what they feel, most will respond “Pride”.  But pride in what?  One must be careful to discern the source of that pride.  Surely, to some of our more simple-minded “my country right or wrong” brethren, it’s simple pride in the U.S.’s ability to impose its will, to project its might, anywhere in the world with devastating results, however effective those results may or may not be.  This is willful blindness.

But most, the thoughtful ones of any political persuasion will give quite a different answer.   They are simply proud of the young people themselves- the ones that took an oath to serve their country, the ones that obeyed lawful orders even to their own peril, the ones that were willing to die not for some abstract principal like liberty or freedom, but to protect their family and friends and often, the other young people next to them that took the same pledge.

Dead heroes can’t talk about why they did what they did, why they put themselves in the exact position that resulted in their deaths.  Living heroes simply don’t seem to talk about it.  During my years in the Army, I had the honor of meeting a Medal of Honor winner.  I met many other Viet Nam veterans that had been wounded or honored with other medals.  I once worked with a gentleman that had been a special operations soldier in that same conflict.  None of them spoke freely of their acts.  I saw a young soldier once have the temerity to ask one of these heroes what it had been like “there”.  There was a pause before the old soldier said that he hoped the kid would never have to know.

And that’s a crucial sentiment.  If you are of my country, be proud yes, but for the right reasons.  If you are one of my readers from another country, please try to understand the source of that pride.  I have no idea how other countries commemorate their war dead, but I suspect it is for the same reasons that we do.  The soldiers themselves know their duty and do it, even to the point of self sacrifice.  But far too often the same cannot be said of the men that send them to war. 

It seems to me that the most fitting tribute that we can pay to the lost ones is to build a world, to choose leaders, that insure that another naïve kid never has to know what it’s like “there”.