“Dulce et decorum est”
The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.
The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.
Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.
May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.
In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace . . . Who brought a sword.
Memorial Day always reminds of the heroes who we knew—-but yet we never knew how much they gave. Nor what true humility and sacrifice is.
Like the sharp, but quiet man I worked alongside in tax accounting for some years. He was awarded a Bronze Star for valor in Korea: He commanded a machine gun and singlehanded fought off an attacking North Korean division with no other protection, no blast shield, and laid down covering fire for his fellow GI’s, with nothing to protect him despite furious incoming fire that somehow miraculously never hit him, protected by nothing but his fearlessness. I only found out about his achievements at his death.
Or Father George Carroll, SJ, who I alongside him was I privileged to teach high school for a few years many decades ago. George was a mortar man in the US Marines and was in the sixth wave landing ashore at Okinawa. He and his team were prime targets for the lethal Japanese snipers that commanded the high ground. He survived —-and never mentioned a word about it. I only found out about it at his funeral.
Or the family member the full extent of his WW2 service that I never knew, that he had won the Bronze Star, multiple medals, and the US Army Commendation Medal for Meritorious service. Never breathed a word of it. I only found out about it after his death by going through his dresser drawer when I was packing up his personal effects.
These are the people to remember—-and many others—-on Memorial Day.