MEMORIAL DAY WITH THE BOYS AT 19

Memorial Day is good time to remember what it is and who it’s for.

From Google AI:

 

The average age of war dead in World War I was approximately 26 to 27 years old, depending on the nation and the stage of the conflict.

While the average age hovered in the mid-to-late twenties, more 19-year-olds were killed than any other single age.

I spent the afternoon and evening with three men in their mid-late thirties, two moms, one GG, two grandkids, and a dog.

While I worked on the set-up in the garage I watched/listened to a WWII documentary on the history channel.

Charlie brought a box of Memorial Day Stella Artoir with Belgian roots. (Hey Charlie)

We toasted the nineteen year old soldiers, the guys who said “how high” when told to jump, who said “how far” when told to run.

We toasted the kids in some Belgian trench in 1915 who waited for a whistle to blow before climbing ladders and going over the top.

 

Over The Top

When someone is exaggerating or behaving in a more pronounced way than need be they are being “over the top”.

Of course in WW1 this literally meant going over the top of the trench to charge the enemy, and most likely being mown down by machine-gun fire in the process.

 

More over the top:

If your men go over the top right now, it will be suicide! We need to wait for air cover, first.

I grabbed the private so he wouldn’t go over the top and get caught in the line of fire.

We need to wait for the right opportunity to go over the top and ambush the enemy.

 

In Flanders Fields

BY JOHN MCCRAE

 

Memorial Day at 71

The older I get the more I realize how fortunate I’ve been.

I was lucky with my Dad in Korea, my uncle going to Korea and Vietnam, brothers and sons who didn’t get mowed down following orders issued by a ninety-day wonder who knew everything by the book, but nothing about local tactics and terrain.

 

“We have orders to take that hill.”

“Sir, the hill is honeycombed with fighting holes with reinforcements ready to come forward.”

“If you can’t do it I’ll find someone who will, Sergeant. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Later on:

“Men, we’re going out to take Hill 937.”

“Again?”

“Saddle up.”

“Yes, Sir.”

 

 

Memorial Day is for all of the nineteen year olds poured into war as one thing and coming out another, if at all.

They followed orders, did what they’re told, and tell everyone all about it the rest of their lives.

 

That’s Not Just Me?

 

I was a nineteen year old private with one year of college, which made me genius in the Army.

It’s also what made me the Platoon Guide, the highest ranking and most beloved private in the entire platoon.

In other words, a leader of men.

I ask myself these questions:

Would I have climbed out of that WWI trench on the whistle?

Would I have waded onto the French beach in WWII?

Would I have walked out of the Frozen Chosin in Korea?

Every war has nineteen year old privates in the dirt ready to test the opposing army’s fire power, and generals in warm rooms working on strategy.

 

PS:

I asked my Dad what made him do what he did in Korea?

He said he was young and stupid. He was a nineteen year old Marine.

 

PSS:

People want to be remembered.

We remember war dead on Memorial Day.

If you served in uniform it’s your duty to remind the non-service people to remember.

 

Me: I’m glad none of us have to carry memories of awful war experiences. Remember those who can’t tell their stories, their now silent lives marked by headstones, row after row, column after column, of nineteen years olds ready to live, ready to jump, ready to run, ready to fly.

Boys: And ready to die.

Me: That’s why we treat our wives, our babies, with the tenderness and sweetness only we can give them. Make sure you do that. That’s an order. Do you get that? An order.

Boys: Yes, sir.

Me: Good. Now who’s ready for another Stella?

 

One of the grandkids came out, looked at the TV, and asked why it looked so sad.

A five year old.

It was the history channel documentary. I turned it off.