Memories and Memorial Days

This blog entry is not in the usual manner and style of our other postings for our Reunion. To do so is wholly purposeful on my part. I offer this up in a spirit of not forgetting the sacrifices of many persons--some older than us; some younger than us; and some exactly our age.

As some of you may know or recall, I ended up spending almost six years as an active duty Army officer after our graduation, courtesy of my time with Vandy Army ROTC. Others with whom I spent time in ROTC, however, have gone on to serve as professional officers; several of our classmates who were in the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marine Option ROTC programs remain on active duty or have recently retired. One of the ROTC instructors, Marine Major Emil Bedard, is now a general; his successor, Gary Anderson, is now well known as a frequent military commentator for PBS, NPR and CNN. One of our own classmates, Army Colonel Bill Hickman, has served in senior leadership roles in the 101st Airborne Division overseas on repeated tours of combat duty. We know, of course, that Bill is not alone in that respect.

Memorial Day will be here very soon. It now holds a special meaning for many Americans as being a day for more than barbecues, sports and for welcoming summer. Regrettably, the meaning it holds for many Americans is now quite personally imbued with the deepest of emotions: of sadness, of regret, of loss of a loved one or family member. My father, a Marine veteran of World War II, died just days after Memorial Day ten years ago. That holiday will no longer pass without my missing him and wondering about what kinds of private hells he and his buddies encountered on Pacific battlefields over sixty years ago.

Other families' memories of loss and pain are sharper and even more poignant. I share with you below an e-mail I received last night from a former law firm colleague of mine who is in age a contemporary of ours, and who is a National Guard JAG lawyer now stationed in Tikrit, Iraq. Obviously, each of you shall draw your own message, political observations and conclusions from this post. I ask, however, that as you read it, please take a moment to think of those who have died (as well as those permanently scarred by the wounds of war, I would suggest), and their families and loved ones who have lost them, as we proceed this month towards Memorial Day 2008.

A quick and somber note. Last night our redeployment focus was tempered by the death of a civilian contractor living in the next compound. He died after an IED exploded under his vehicle. Approximately 200 people attended a late evening ceremony to load his remains for the flight home.

The send off, known as a "ramp ceremony", was conducted with a too well-practiced efficiency and quiet military heraldry. An ambulance delivered the casket, draped in an American flag, to the runway. The attendees formed two rows facing each other creating a path between the ambulance and the plane's cargo hatch. An eight-man detail removed the casket from the ambulance and carried it through the formation at a halfstep march. We held an honorary salute until the detail placed the body in the plane's cargo area and were dismissed.

We arrived at the airfield at 10:15 pm, but the ceremony did not start until 11 pm. The evening was comfortable, starlit and the drone of Blackhawk and Apache helicopters taking off and landing for their nightly missions interfered with most conversation. The ceremony lasted 10 minutes. Most were quiet afterwards, and those who knew the dead man (I did not) were caught up in various stages of emotion.

My thoughts ranged dramatically. The man woke up that morning, ate breakfast in the mess hall and left for a mission with expectation to return to [Camp] Speicher for dinner. His plans were interrupted by the war.He instead died, and 12 hours later his body was going home in a casket. I learned he was my exact age - a sobering thought to my self-perceived immortality. I also wondered about the soldiers traveling with the body. None of them awoke yesterday expecting to fly with a flag-draped casket visible from every seat in the plane. The event is a solemn reminder of the violence and tragedy this conflict continues to inflict.

I called Claudine immediately upon returning to our compound to hear her voice and speak with the children. The conversation pacified my mood,and I enjoyed Aidan's prattle more than any conversation with him in my memory bank. Most of all - last night reaffirmed that I am ready to come home.