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Memorial Day, 2020

May 22, 2020 — Leave a comment

Like much else about our society in these challenging days of Covid-19, the Memorial Day, 2020 observances will no doubt be a departure from the norm. There will be no Indy 500 with the solemn pre-race playing of taps honoring our American war dead. Some cemeteries may be decorated with American flags over the graves of veterans, but hardly to the extent of years past. Churches and other institutions who choose to pay homage to those who gave the last full measure will likely do so via videoconference. Social media will have its Memorial Day moment, no doubt, most of it well-intentioned and heartfelt, some of it as vapid and irrelevant as those posting it. Such is the nature of our society in the digital age.     

In any event, who could have foreseen that during the spring of 2020, more Americans would be claimed by the coronavirus in these few short weeks than were killed in action in Vietnam over more than a decade? It’s a distressing situation, this vicious disease, fraught with uncertainty and fear and, for some, utter despair. It’s a challenge that will demand our best—from the patience and resolve of our citizens to the leadership at all levels of government. The creativity and flexibility of our free-enterprise system will likewise be critical in the coming months, much as it was during World War II. And I should mention a word of praise for our medical professionals, the true heroes of this time. Thank God for these selfless friends and neighbors, serving on the front lines.

It’s not a cliché to say that our current situation is another in a long line of crises this nation has faced. Because it is. Progress may be slower and less linear than we’d prefer, and the price in lives will continue, but we’ll get through it somehow. We always do.

So, is there a connection between our war dead and the current crisis?

Yes, most assuredly.  

More than one-million members of the U.S. military have been killed in action in this nation’s wars. They are buried all across the USA and in foreign cemeteries, most especially Europe. They were from small towns and big cities. Some had wealth and privilege while many others had very little. Some had worked on farms or in factories or had been public school students or teachers. Some were married and raising families while others had barely begun to shave. Some were experienced military pros while others were upset over the Boston Massacre or Fort Sumter or Pearl Harbor or 9/11, and volunteered to strike a blow in reprisal. Most, however, were intent upon just doing their bit in uniform as best they could, and then going home.

These are different times, even beyond the Covid-19 pandemic. Fewer than one percent of the American population is serving in the military. Thus, most American families have little or no connection to the armed forces. Many of those family members have never had so much as a friendship with someone who is serving, or has served in uniform. Therein lies a disconnect that creates a social divide as military men and women serve and sometimes die, while the nation at large hardly notices. The burden falls on precious few, and it’s an increasingly heavy burden. Thank God, as well, for these warriors on the front lines.

Back to the connection between our war dead and the current crisis. What is it, then?

Well, it’s in the fact that so many of us feel we’re facing real life-and-death circumstances, perhaps some for the first time in their lives. And it’s not pleasant. Our war dead also faced those feelings, albeit far more intensively, in the dangerous existence they encountered. They didn’t want to die any more than we do. So, in that, we are connected.

It’s in the feeling of the temporary loss of personal freedom, whether by edict or by an inclination toward self-preservation, or both. And few of us like it, temporary or otherwise. It’s given us a chance to reflect upon freedom, and its importance to us. On a broader level, the idea of freedom was important to our war dead, as well, such that they were willing to die to ensure its survival. Truth be told, over a million did. In that, we are likewise connected.

And it’s in knowing that, in the end, as so aptly described in James 4:14, “You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.” Our war dead understood perhaps more deeply than anyone just how fragile and fleeting human life is. And just how small (and sometimes powerless) we really are in the workings of this extraordinarily large and complex world, especially one at war or in a global pandemic crisis. In that, too, we are connected.

So, think of them this Memorial Day weekend, our American war dead. We are connected whether we realize it or not–as fellow citizens, as fellow human beings. They deserve a place in our collective memory. They deserve our respect and admiration. Their loss is our loss.

Mostly, though, they deserve our eternal gratitude.

May God rest their souls.

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Remembering a U.S. Marine Hero on Memorial Day, 2018

May 23, 2018 — Leave a comment

Alexander “Sandy” Bonnyman Jr was born in Atlanta, GA on May 2, 1910 before moving to Knoxville, TN in his youth. During World War II, Bonnyman enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps at age 32 and underwent recruit training at Marine Corps Recruit Depot, San Diego, CA. He could have exempted military service by virtue of his owning and managing a copper-mining business deemed strategically important to the war effort. But he chose to serve instead.

As a result of his exemplary leadership as a combat engineer during the Battle of Guadalcanal in 1942, Bonnyman was awarded a battlefield commission as a Second Lieutenant. It was during the November 1943 Battle of Tarawa that Bonnyman’s extraordinary leadership skills were once again displayed. On the battle’s first day and upon his own initiative, he voluntarily led a group of Marines in silencing an enemy installation while other Marines were pinned down on the beach. His primary duties as a beachhead logistics officer required no such risky activity in the face of the enemy. But he chose to lead instead.

On the battle’s second day, and once again exercising exceptional initiative, Bonnyman patched together a group of 21 Marines and attacked a reinforced enemy shelter. While the initial attempt met with limited success, Bonnyman and his Marines had to withdraw to take on more ammunition and explosives. The second attempt flushed large numbers of enemy from the position where they were quickly dispatched by Marine infantry and a supporting tank. Bonnyman was shot and killed while pressing the assault from a forward position in what became the attack’s final phase. When leaders were desperately needed in a desperate fight, he again chose to step forward and lead.

He was interred with other Marines in an impromptu burial trench whose location was inadvertently lost by the end of the war.

Lt. Alexander Bonnyman was later awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor for his actions at Tarawa. His “dauntless fighting spirit, unrelenting aggressiveness and forceful leadership” were cited in the award.

In March 2015, the lost burial trench was located by History Flight, Inc., a Florida-based nonprofit that has recovered more than seventy sets of Marine remains from Tarawa. In May 2015, some seven decades after his death in battle, Lt. Bonnyman’s remains were found and thereafter positively identified. What made the discovery all the more poignant was that Clay Bonnyman Evans, the grandson of Lt. Alexander Bonnyman, had volunteered to travel to Tarawa to assist in the search. Evans was on the scene when his grandfather’s remains were unearthed.

In September 2015, Lt. Bonnyman’s remains were returned to his childhood home in Knoxville, TN. He was buried with full military honors at Berry Highland Memorial Cemetery. He was home, finally.

Semper Fi, Alexander Bonnyman. And welcome home, sir.

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Memorial Day, 2014: A Marine’s Marine

May 24, 2014

Gen. Raymond G. Davis, United States Marine Corps, is one of the more legendary figures in the fabled history of the Corps. He was a combat veteran of World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. He was awarded virtually every decoration this nation can bestow for acts of gallantry, including the Medal of Honor. And he attained four-star rank when he was named Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps near the end of his illustrious career.

His Medal of Honor citation reads in part: “Always in the thick of the fighting Lt. Col. Davis led his battalion over 3 successive ridges in the deep snow in continuous attacks against the enemy and, constantly inspiring and encouraging his men throughout the night, brought his unit to a point within 1,500 yards of the surrounded rifle company by daybreak. Although knocked to the ground when a shell fragment struck his helmet and 2 bullets pierced his clothing, he arose and fought his way forward at the head of his men until he reached the isolated Marines.”

The temperature that night in Korea was 30 degrees below zero. He rescued his Marines and opened up a critical mountain pass.

When I was a Basic School student at Quantico, Virginia as a Marine second lieutenant in 1970, Gen. Davis attended a formal dinner for our class, by tradition referred to as Mess Night. I knew of his exploits in combat, and I saw the Medal of Honor around his neck and the Navy Cross, Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, and numerous other decorations on his chest. He was soft-spoken, of average height and build, but he had the unmistakable presence and aura that great leaders exude, all without a trace of vanity or condescension.

When I mentioned to Gen. Davis that I was from his home state of Georgia, he asked what school I had attended. I knew the general had graduated from Georgia Tech, and when I mentioned that I had attended his school’s chief rival, he smiled and said, “Ah, a Georgia Bulldog.”

The years passed, and I now wish that I had arranged to visit him before his death in 2003, at age 88. I could have taken along the three novels I’ve written and we could have talked about the football fortunes of Georgia and Georgia Tech. And I’m sure we would have talked about the Marine Corps. What a rich wellspring of Marine history he would have been.

Thank you, Gen. Davis, for the remarkable service you rendered this nation in its times of need. You will forever be remembered by your fellow Marines.

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Memorial Day, 2013 – Voices From Arlington

May 23, 2013

arl2More than 285,000 people have been buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Headstones of veterans from the Revolutionary War to the current struggle in Afghanistan adorn Arlington’s rolling Virginia hills. Soldiers of every age, sex, race, and creed are buried there. Many were killed in action, some dying in places named Bull Run, Belleau Wood, Iwo Jima, Hungnam, Quang Tri, Fallujah, and Kandahar.

There are generals and admirals and decorated heroes at Arlington, along with astronauts, Supreme Court justices, and two U.S. presidents. The Tomb of the Unknowns is guarded around the clock and holds the remains of one unknown each from World War I, World War II, and the Korean War.

Suppose for a moment we could hear from a group of twenty-year-old soldiers who died on the battlefields of each of our wars since the Revolution. Also suppose they never achieved high rank, never became fathers or grandfathers, and never tasted their mother’s cooking again. They were never again buoyed when their misty-eyed fathers extended a hand while saying, “I’m proud of you, son,” or saw the look of admiration on the faces of their younger siblings. They were just scared, homesick, acne-faced young men who confronted the enemy, fought bravely, and met a violent death in the flower of their youth.

So what would they tell us about what they understood they died for? What would they think of the America we now have, as opposed to the one they knew and loved? What advice would they give us about how we should live our lives, or treat others, or act as citizens of a free and great nation?

What would they tell us?

If we told them about how some of us felt our individual liberties seem to be eroding more and more, would the young solider of the Revolution roll his eyes and giggle at the seeming abundance of liberty we now enjoy? If we complained about the deep-rooted unethical and corrupt behavior of so many of our public officials nowadays, would the Civil War solider shrug his shoulders as if to say, “What else is new?” If we complained about having to deal with a ruthless, ideological enemy who wanted to blow us all up, would the World War II soldier say, “Been there, done that.” If we expressed our concern over our nation’s seeming incoherent foreign policy, would the Vietnam soldier consider the issue for a brief moment before erupting in loud laughter? But what about Benghazi? The American people don’t seem to care about this, we explain to the Korean War soldier. “Yeah? So get over it,” he might say.

But if we asked those young warriors if they would do it all over again, knowing their outcomes would still be the same, what do you think they would say? I don’t know about you, but my strong sense is they would all say, “Yes! My America was worth dying for.”

Is our America still worth dying for?

Well, ask a twenty-year-old soldier on active duty. He comes from the same stuff as did those who preceded him, and it’s good stuff indeed— firm, unselfish, enduring stuff. Ask today’s young soldier if the multiple deployments are worth it; if seeing a buddy’s limbs blown in different directions by an IED is part of the price; if America, despite its divisiveness and imperfections, is still worth a small plot in Arlington.

Again, my strong sense is they would say, “Yes!” They still believe in the greatness and goodness and resiliency of America. They still want to make a difference. They honor their brothers-in-arms from Arlington by their service and their sacrifice, and in so doing they honor us. All of us. Red state, blue state, every state.

May God bless them for it. And bless those in Arlington and other military cemeteries whose voices are silent.

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