In Memoriam

George Orwell once wrote, “You sleep safe in your beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do you harm.”

I think of this today as I remember those men and women of the armed forces who have done such violence, or at least stood ready to do so, so that this country might be free. In fact, many have fought in wars in foreign hostile countries while said wars were being protested back at home. They put themselves in harm’s way to protect the rights of their countrymen to object to the very actions they were taking.

What is truly remarkable is how it comes second nature to so many. To most, military service is just the right thing to do. The dangerous nature of their assignments is simply part of the job.

My grandfather served in World War II. He received two purple hearts during his years of service. Yet, he barely spoke of his experience in the theater of war. Nearly three years after his death now, even my grandmother admits that she knows little about the details of her husband’s time in Europe. She knows he spent some time as a messenger behind enemy lines and has commented that it must have suited him well because he could be awfully sneaky when he wanted to be. She tells my older brother, the history expert, that she needs to sit down with him and my grandfather’s paperwork in order to determine exactly what he did.

I had always been aware that he had been in WWII. From my earliest memories, I can recall knowing that Grandpa still had shrapnel in his leg. These facts were never kept from me. Furthermore, my grandfather was always a kind and approachable man. His time in the war was not something that was stepped around at family get-togethers. It just rarely came up. It wasn’t who he was.

There was so much else to talk about. As I said, he was kind. He wanted to know how things were going. He wanted to know about school. He wanted to know about which sports we were playing. He attended most of our sporting events. When he offered my brothers and I advice, it was done in a gentle and constructive way. It never felt critical. He even helped coach my basketball team in grammar school. My uncle still talks fondly of my grandfather’s time spent as an ump for his impromptu baseball games with the neighborhood kids. He would get home from work and go right to the ball field to help keep order and mentor the young athletes.

In my mind, my grandfather was in World War II, but he wasn’t a soldier. He was a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather to my sons, a hard working man, a Christian, a silent leader. He was always these things, but never a soldier.

This is not to say he took his service lightly. It’s just to say that his service always seemed to me like something he did because it was the right thing to do and that was that. That’s just how he was. He never asked for credit. If there was something he did that was special, you never learned of it from him. So, his time in the military seemed to fit this pattern.

I will always remember my grandmother being presented with the flag at his funeral. I remember her quietly thanking the young soldier who kneeled and presented it to her and seeing the emotion on her face. And I remember the pride I felt at that moment, perhaps the only moment in my life prior to then that my grandfather was a soldier in my mind first and foremost. The first time that I truly appreciated his having fought for our country.

There were a few words I remember my grandfather saying about his service. He once said, regarding his time in the military being over, “I figure I don’t owe them nothing, and they don’t owe me nothing.”

I’ll disagree with him here. We owe him everything. As we do to all those who have sacrificed of themselves on our behalf. All who have gone before or since. We owe you everything. Thank you for serving.

Happy Memorial Day.