Nov. 10, 2002 - 18:28 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Honor

The way I usually start things Bastion - is, "When I was a kid," but not this time ! A number of years before I was born there was a horrible thing in our country now called in our history books, "The Civil War." A war that was 'Us against us' often blood against blood as differences existed between members in some families. The future of our country seemed dim for a while. Yet, there were military men fighting for the South and military men fighting for the north. And there were soldiers in this country almost from its beginning.

Near the time of my birth, the war we now call World War One ended, the Germans signed the Armistice on 5 AM November 11, 1918 and the war was officially over.

I think it was a military man back in the Civil War who said, "War is hell," World War One was hell on fire. Many of our countrymen fought and died in that war, some came home crippled - physically and mentally.

So Bastion comes the start. When I was a kid, There were still Civil War Veterans living in our town, we didn't see much of them, and heard no 'war stories' either. Occasionally one of the boys would come up proudly wearing insignia someone wore in the Civil War. Usually it was his grandfather's passed on to the kid.

Veterans of World War One were much more numerous, and like the old warriors they had little to discuss regarding the war they survived other than trading experiences with others who had served 'over there' and survived.

It is told that poppies only will grow in earth that has been rooted up and in Flanders (between France and Belgium) that is a good description of the battle scarred ground there. So there were poppies, sprung from long dormant seed, making a blanket over the fields in Flanders, red they were, symbolic of blood. John McCrae (1872-1918) was a Canadian physician who had fought at the Western Front in 1914 and had noted the fields of poppies and wrote the famous poem.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS

In Flander's fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders Fields

In 1922 Buddy Poppies made their appearance on street corners. They were small, tokens really, that were vended by veterans. People bought them showing respect for the veterans and proudly wearing them on their person for a time.

A goodly part of the veterans on the street corners were disabled in one way or another, but were out trying for their cause.

Times then were bad, our veterans had been promised a bonus and they were hurting. I don't really remember when they were supposed to get it and I can't Google right now. I think the crux was that the veterans were in need of money now. A large group of the camped out on Anacostia Flats near Washington D.C. And were driven out on the orders of Herbert Hoover. Yet I think they finally got their bonus.

Our country went through the Great Depression and ten years of drought.

Our country recovering somewhat from that came the horror of war again and World War Two had our soldiers, sailors and air men fighting in Europe and West Pacific. These veterans had little to relate of their experiences. My uncle, a cook, ran a mule train in the mountains in Italy I think, but in the mountains where fighting was going on. He came back to US and was in a relaxed R&R environment in Miami, Florida for quite some time. The only thing he would say about that time in his life was that he had made friends with an Italian family, taken into their circle. He was fed when there of course and being the cook he was before the war he was amazed at the delicious food at that family's table. A few ingredients, a little spice, a flake or two of meat and voila a repast fit for a banquet table. Even when he had been home here for some time if a car backfired or some other extremely loud noise was made he would be under cover, on the floor behind something.

In 1954 someone who could do something about things saw that Armistice Day was renamed Veterans Day to honor all our military who had served us in wars and brush actions that weren't called wars, yet our men died in them.There was another generation selling Buddy Poppies on corners. I don't think our country did too much for our military folk other than give ex-military the opportunity to get a college education. The greatly disabled often ended up tucked away somewhere. I worked with a man who had been in the South Pacific during he war. He had contracted malaria which would put him under the the first few hot days each year. He also had some kind of Jungle Rot that nothing seemed to cure. But he worked his bum off to provide for his family. The ex-military more or less disappeared into our country's woodwork for all the general public knew.

Seemed like that war was hardly over when our fighting folk were freezing in Korea. Then came Viet Nam. A sensless thing I think, but our military was doing what they could and followed the orders given. When I was working in West Pac I was visiting a man in the military hospital in Yokohama and was there enough to see our men attended by medical people in the attempt to stabilize them so they could be shipped to hospitals in the US. The extent of their injuries was unbelievable. Even the walking wounded were coping with terrible things.

It was in the Viet Nam era that it became fashionable in certain circles to deride our military folk when on the streets here. Spit on at times, dissed all the time.

We still had military folk, ready to do what needed to be done to protect our country - and did it when called on. Not too long after Viet Nam we were in the war to end Oil Wars (My definition and opinion) in the mid-east.

Our military was there breathing the fumes from the oil well fires, facing an enemy whose tactics were unholy and cruel. Again popular opinion was against our military. Our men came home with a variety of ailments which the government is finally beginning to admit could have been caused from exposure to things where they had been serving.

How is it possible to honor and respect those who served our country enough ? Why is it that our service people often are sent to the foot of the table, or to the kitchen to eat ? Are hindmost when the goodies and credit is handed out ?

We seem to be on the brink of yet again sending our armed forces over to the mideast to face the horrors of war.

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day here in the US. I think the military of other countries are honored in their habitat at other dates. Those folk honored over there experienced war many of them. They are respected, revered, honored. As I think we should do for ours. The least we can do is be very thankful our military has been here all that time.

They live and serve in Honor . . . . . . . .

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