Who are the brave?
As fun as it was to watch 11:11 11/11/11 pass by, I can't forget that this day is special for a much more enduring reason. In honor of Armistice/Veteran's Day, I have two small things to bring to the table.
The first is a story, albeit about the wrong war. Shortly after the dedication of the WWII memorial, my family passed through DC as part of our family vacation that year. We tend to pack our vacations as full as possible, and this was no exception, so we ended up at the memorials at sunset. There's something more peaceful and somber about seeing them at night, and something hopeful and determined about seeing them during the day, in my experience, so it wasn't a bad time to be there for me. As we were walking up to the WWII memorial, we met an older man in a wheelchair and an army ballcap there with a lady whom I believe was his wife. As you might expect from the fact that he's coming up at all, he was a veteran of the Second World War, come there to see the new memorial and remember. He was friendly and perhaps in a mood to share because of the memorial, so it didn't take much before he started telling his story. He had joined the war at sixteen, wanting to do his part. He was from a slightly rural area, and his mother vouched that he was eighteen, so he was able to enlist despite being underage. Despite the horrors of war, he did not regret going and doing what he felt was his duty.
Despite the courage and love of home and country displayed by many today, I do not believe his story is one we will tell about this generation in another seventy-five years. It's sad to lose that sense of duty from the general consciousness, but I hope that it also means we have an appreciation of the horrors of war that will increase our prudence in the present, inspire our goals for the future, and enrich our respect for the past.
The second tidbit, rather predictably, is a song. I can't find my favorite version of it online, so I'll just leave the lyrics here.
Who are the brave? Those who go to war.
Who are the brave? Those who fight no more.
Those who gave their lives, protecting freedom's shore.
Who are the brave? Those who serve in war.
Who are the brave? Those who live with pain.
Who are the brave? Those whose lives are plain.
Those with healthy bodies, those protecting the unsure.
Who are the brave? Those who serve the poor.
Who are the brave? Those whose speech is free?
Who are the brave? Those loving liberty.
All those with heart and mind, protecting all they find.
Who are the brave? Those who serve mankind.
These are the brave.
Thank you to the brave (John, Dick, Nina, Mike, Jack, Jordan, Garry, et al.) that I have known, and for all those unknown to me.
Lt. Barnard Cummings, Jr., and all the POW/MIA soldiers, you are not forgotten. May God bring you home, wherever you are.
The first is a story, albeit about the wrong war. Shortly after the dedication of the WWII memorial, my family passed through DC as part of our family vacation that year. We tend to pack our vacations as full as possible, and this was no exception, so we ended up at the memorials at sunset. There's something more peaceful and somber about seeing them at night, and something hopeful and determined about seeing them during the day, in my experience, so it wasn't a bad time to be there for me. As we were walking up to the WWII memorial, we met an older man in a wheelchair and an army ballcap there with a lady whom I believe was his wife. As you might expect from the fact that he's coming up at all, he was a veteran of the Second World War, come there to see the new memorial and remember. He was friendly and perhaps in a mood to share because of the memorial, so it didn't take much before he started telling his story. He had joined the war at sixteen, wanting to do his part. He was from a slightly rural area, and his mother vouched that he was eighteen, so he was able to enlist despite being underage. Despite the horrors of war, he did not regret going and doing what he felt was his duty.
Despite the courage and love of home and country displayed by many today, I do not believe his story is one we will tell about this generation in another seventy-five years. It's sad to lose that sense of duty from the general consciousness, but I hope that it also means we have an appreciation of the horrors of war that will increase our prudence in the present, inspire our goals for the future, and enrich our respect for the past.
The second tidbit, rather predictably, is a song. I can't find my favorite version of it online, so I'll just leave the lyrics here.
Who are the brave? Those who go to war.
Who are the brave? Those who fight no more.
Those who gave their lives, protecting freedom's shore.
Who are the brave? Those who serve in war.
Who are the brave? Those who live with pain.
Who are the brave? Those whose lives are plain.
Those with healthy bodies, those protecting the unsure.
Who are the brave? Those who serve the poor.
Who are the brave? Those whose speech is free?
Who are the brave? Those loving liberty.
All those with heart and mind, protecting all they find.
Who are the brave? Those who serve mankind.
These are the brave.
Thank you to the brave (John, Dick, Nina, Mike, Jack, Jordan, Garry, et al.) that I have known, and for all those unknown to me.
Lt. Barnard Cummings, Jr., and all the POW/MIA soldiers, you are not forgotten. May God bring you home, wherever you are.