In May, 2009, I celebrated Memorial Day in D.C., and found it to be a moving experience far beyond other Memorial Days in my life. As I stepped into the new World War II memorial, I was moved to tears by the bouquets of flowers that had been placed throughout the memorial. That simple gesture spoke volumes of the grief and gratitude of a nation that will not forget the sacrifices of “ The Greatest Generation.”
A week earlier, I had been vacationing in London, England, with my life-partner. Her father had been a doctor in the Army in Africa and Italy during the war, and because of this, he had missed the first three years of her life as he cared for the wounded and dying so far from home. We visited St. Paul’s Church where we came upon a chapel that had been created for American soldiers by a grateful England. The stained glass windows had images of sailors, airmen, and soldiers. The sun shone that day through these multicolored images onto a simple alter and peaceful area nestled near to where the legendary kings and queens of England are interred.
We both had headphones on that were attached to electronic guides for the church. As the man’s voice finished describing the memorial to the fallen Americans, a choir began singing The Battle Hymn of the Republic. You can imagine the emotions that passed through us; she, for her father, and me as a veteran of the war in Vietnam. To have an ally honor our veterans in such a way left me at a loss for words.
One week later, when we visited the WWII memorial, the Korean memorial, and finally the Vietnam memorial–where I, once again, read the names of some of my friends–all these sights and sounds from London and D.C. blended together to make those moments more vivid and meaningful and me more reflective. In the past, it has been easy to attend Memorial Day events, see the parades, hear elderly veterans stumble through formal phrases of remembrance, watch flags passing by, and then turn toward home and family activities. Not this year, however.
Why? Because statisticians tell us that Vietnam veterans are now dying at the rate of one a minute. Each day, 1,800 of us leave this life, these images of the war of our youth. There were almost half-a-million Vietnam veterans and friends on motorcycles rumbling around D.C. as part of the Rolling Thunder tradition. Chances are good that some of those riders will not be with us next year. They are trying to keep the memories of their comrades alive, to remind the country that for them the hostilities in Vietnam ended decades ago, but the battles continue for veterans and their families to bring some meaning to the lives that were lost or damaged.
Our country has a very short memory. People who were not in the war are quick to forget, and the generations of Americans who have been born since the war have little understanding of what it cost our society in lives and treasure.
But even as Vietnam veterans struggle to find meaning to their sacrifices, our country needs to awaken to the fact that our sons and daughters fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan are giving us new reasons to mourn and laud their sacrifices for us. For this country, every day needs to be a Memorial Day to honor the fallen and care for the veterans and their families. Only then will we as a nation be able to say that we truly honor our veterans.