I hope this post will be short. I need it to be. After a wonderful church service yesterday, I went home, opened up YouTube and was immediately met with videos about memorial day. As a veteran, I was overcome with deep sorrow over the seemingly endless gravestones overlooking Normandy beach in France, and the thousands of gravestones at Arlington. So many lives have been lost in the last century, it’s almost hard to comprehend them all. It’s not just the military cemeteries, but throughout the earth. Even in the small cemetery where my father is laid to rest I noticed a great number of stones with rank, and even some with pictures of the dead loved one in uniform etched into the monument. Sometime today I will find time to watch Saving Private Ryan, as I do every Memorial Day. I’ll weep as I watch the mother of the Ryan boys collapse on the porch as she realizes that her sons would not be coming home to her. I’ll also cry uncontrollably as the elderly Private Ryan says to his wife, “Tell me I have led a good life.” Then almost in desperation “Tell me I’m a good man.”
For the survivors of combat, there can be no catharsis, nor can you make sense of why you are still alive and others around you perished. My Dad used to always say that if wars were fought by old men, there wouldn’t be any war. I would just laugh at him, but now that I'm in my 70's I know he was right.
I was never put in a situation where I feared for my life or had someone shooting at me. As a father of three, I'm thankful that my service was largely uneventful. I served during both the Cold War, and Desert Storm and saw my share of tragic training deaths, and aircraft crashes. I never felt brave or noble. So, when I watch movies like 'Saving Private Ryan,' I feel so much sorrow for the families who lost loved ones in the many conflicts since Desert Storm.
While my wife Glenda was still alive, she would always rat me out as a veteran whenever we went to Silver Dollar City. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve marched with a bunch of potbellied, bearded old men who stood proudly at attention and saluted as the National Anthem played. Once the last note sounds you can always feel the power of the words, especially as we recited the Pledge of Allegiance. If you are a veteran, the Pledge has already been made more than words, it is alive in you. As a veteran, you can’t raise your arm in salute to the flag without thinking of the lives lost to defend our great nation. After the ceremony ,I would return to Glenda’s side and would slip my hand in hers. She always smiled proudly at me, squeezed my hand, and thanked me for my service. I don't know why she got so much pleasure out of seeing me march at the flag raising, but she did. After she passed away, I would wear my Desert Storm ball cap, and march proudly to join in the celebration. Then, one day I looked around and realized that she wasn’t there to be proud of me anymore. So I stopped wearing my hat. A couple of weeks ago, a young man who gives out the veterans ribbons recognized me and asked me to join in. I told him I’d marched more times than I care to remember. With an earnest smile he held out the ribbon, and said, “it would make me feel proud if you would wear this, thank you for your service.”
You see, like most old men who went to war, victory can be empty in the face of the carnage of war. So, you might be wondering why I push myself to watch “Saving Private Ryan” every Memorial Day? It comes from a moment when Glenda and I first watched the movie together at home. She saw me crying at the end of the movie, got up from her recliner, walked over to me, bent down tenderly, and said, “You are a good man.”
Only she would know if that was really true.
The older I’ve become the more I hate war, but at the same time, I’m not ashamed of my service. Like King David of old, I know that there has to be men and women who will lay their lives on the line for those unwilling, or unable to defend themselves. As long as there are despots, evil hearted men, and cruel human beings, there will always be a need for men and women to stand up against that evil. I just long for the day “when men will learn war no more.” (Isaiah 2:4)
So, I did my usual Memorial routine this morning, I went down to the square, set my hand softly against the monuments to the fallen, and said a prayer of thanks for their sacrifice. I truly hope that I’ve lived a life worthy of their sacrifice. I also hope that the young boys in our fellowship will never have to learn war.
