Remember them this Memorial Day
May 26, 2012 in Uncategorized By: Dave Emerson
(Los Alamitos, 5/26/2012)Many Americans will observe the “National Moment of Remembrance” at 3 pm local time on Memorial Day.
At this moment, they will pause from what they are doing to reflect and remember those who have paid the ultimate price for the liberty we enjoy.
A salute to all our vets and their families, especially those who did not return.
“All gave some, and some gave all.”
“Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”
Soldiers are not chunks of identical clay; each of them has a story, their own reasons for being caught in a war.
Brave? Maybe – sometimes, under some conditions. Scared, mostly. The younger they are, the more likely their presence had to do with restlessness, cockiness. The need to be part of a winning team, the desire to even a score. Kick ass, take names. Kill them all, let God sort them out.
The older they are, the more realistic they are. This was a steady paycheck, or a way to supplement the one they already had. When they join, it’s with their eyes on the future benefit. When they’re in the middle of a war, they think only of surviving the next five minutes. Please, God, please. Let me see my family again.
And when they die in the war, each death leaves a hole in the world. It’s important to remember that, to not see them as a monolithic casualty list or as an acceptable loss.
No loss is acceptable. Ask the parents, the spouses, the children. They try. They tell themselves stories of nobility, sacrifice, a greater cause. They cover it up with the ritual rhetoric. But deep down, they must wonder.
Here is how to count the cost: In high school graduation pictures that will never be replaced with wedding pictures. In wedding rings that will never be worn smooth by years. By the daughters who will walk down the aisle with an uncle or brother instead of Dad. By the sons who will find themselves angry and lost, not understanding why. The children who will hear about their mother’s eyes, their father’s chin but won’t ever see themselves reflected in that face.
By the parents who now understand the quiet obscenity of outliving their own children.
Each and every one of these deaths left a hole in the world. That is why we count them.
They mattered.
– By Susie Madrak, Memorial Day 2005
May 2002
Editor Press Telegram :
In Mr. Figueroa’s article, “The Unknown Soldier” his comment … “I don’t really know anything about the people who have dedicated their lives to protecting our country…” struck a chord and reminded me of something my sister wrote at the beginning of the Gulf War in 1990. Here it is:
WHEN MY DAD LEFT FOR WAR
By Suzanne DeBolt
It was the summer of 1969. I was seven years old and the youngest of six children when my dad left for war. I don’t remember what day it was, or what I was doing the morning before he left, but I do remember standing in Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport on a July afternoon saying good-bye.
My dad was a career Marine aviator (navigator). I grew up waving good-bye just like my brothers and sisters before me. It was nothing new. I never doubted he would come back, no matter how long the flights were. One night I’d wake up, hear his snoring and know our dad had made it home.
But this time when my dad left for a one year tour in Vietnam, I knew that it was somehow different. My mom cried. She never cried when he left before. I cried because everyone else did and because a year did seem like a long time. I remember my oldest sister running through the terminal with her brand new baby in her arms. My dad was already on the plane. I guess he’d have to wait a year to hold his new granddaughter.
The plane took off and we all went home without dad. Nobody cried any more. I remember thinking about the good things of having dad gone. We got to move to Arizona to be near my older brothers and sisters and Grandma and Grandpa. We could eat Mexican food or go to McDonalds—dad hated both. And best of all, no more having to sit still and be quiet when the pictures of the moon-landing came on TV. Dad must have made me watch it a hundred times. I knew we would all make it a year without dad.
I survived the second grade and my dad survived Vietnam. He came home on schedule the next summer. I don’t remember that airport scene. I guess I was there. We moved away to another military base, a new home and a new school. Dad kept leaving and coming back. Sometimes he was gone for two or three months, but nothing unusual.
My dad is retired now. I was visiting him and my mom at Christmas when the news came on TV, showing the families in Sky Harbor Airport saying good-bye to the soldiers leaving for war in Kuwait. My dad said, “Boy I’m glad that’s not me. I’ve been there before.” Me too Dad… me too.
Note: Master Gunnery Sergeant Arthur O. DeBolt passed away in 2009. He served 33 years in the Marine Corps. He served during World War II on the ground as a machine gunner at Guadalcanal and as a navigator/bombardier on a B-25. The rest of his career, including the Korean War and two tours in Vietnam were spent in the air as a navigator in transport airplanes. He finished his career as the navigator in the air crew for the Commandant of the Marine Corps.
Art DeBolt
Los Alamitos