Thoughts on Memorial Day
By Gwen R. Break
May 16 marked the second anniversary of my husband’s death. He was not a famous man nor did he accumulate a lot of wealth, but he was a remarkable man. He inspired and mentored dozens of aspiring journalists in his 40-year news career and instilled in them the old fashioned journalistic values of integrity, truth and impartiality. That is the legacy most know him by, but for him it was another event, another time and career that was the benchmark of his life and haunted him until his death.
My husband carried with him the belief that he was responsible for another man losing his life in Vietnam. He told me the story about two months before he died.
He was 20 years old, an Army medic. He was supposed to be on a truck that was going to a secure area. My husband, tired, dirty, young and sick of blood and bullets, managed to get out of going and in his stead his best friend went. The truck blew up and all were killed.
I cannot imagine the guilt my husband had in his heart. All I know is that he grieved and worried over it for more than 40 years, and yet he hardly spoke of it. It was the only act for which he wanted forgiveness before he died and the only deed for which he feared judgment.
He never forgave himself, and in that respect, he too was a victim that day. He tried to reckon with it while still a soldier. He volunteered for every air-vac that left his area. He flew into areas where fighting was still ongoing to pick up the wounded and dead. But he always made it back and lived to come home.
I think there must be a story like this in all soldiers, if not to this degree, perhaps just as painful. Those of us who have never been in combat cannot imagine it. The dirt, the violence, the hot stench of dying all around and the waiting, always the waiting—for the next maneuver, the next attack, the next leave, the next bath, the next bit of sunshine, the next one of you to get killed.
It is simply not within most people’s grasp to comprehend what a combat soldier goes through. Perhaps it is because of our own guilt as a nation over surviving so many wars, so many skirmishes, that we set aside a day in May to honor those who died in combat. We made it. They didn’t. “God forgive me, but I am both glad and ashamed that I am glad.”
It doesn’t matter what your beliefs are about the two wars we currently are fighting, just as it didn’t matter what the men and women who were called to fight believed. They went, ready to die in the service to their country at our behest. It is because they gave so freely their very lives that we owe them at the very least a single moment of remembrance on Monday, Memorial Day. I know at 3 p.m., I will stop what I am doing and recall all the blessings I have and the liberty with which I live my life. I will give thanks to these men and women, soldiers all, for men like my husband and those like his friend.
ABOUT OUR COVER ARTIST
This issue marks Cara Roy’s umpteenth appearance on our cover (okay, we lost count). She is currently celebrating 18 years in business at Seaside, where her gallery features original watercolors, prints of the local area, event posters and note cards. Roy’s gallery is open seven days a week from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION
Occasional Beachcomber contributor Johhny C. has a brand new show debuting on 30aTV this weekend, featuring special guest Chris Manson, editor of the Beachcomber. Look for it on Mediacom Channel 8 just east of Sandestin and everywhere else at www.30a.tv.
COMMENT OF THE FORTNIGHT
“…the only oil here is tanning oil.”
(Posted by HarborWalk Village on Facebook)
THIS JUST IN…
The 14th Annual Pandora’s Charity Golf Tournament raised over $120,000, to be distributed evenly among the Children’s Home Society of Florida, Silver Sands School, Special Olympics of Okaloosa County, and Horizons of Okaloosa County. Pictured here is Horizons CEO and Friend of the Beachcomber Dr. Julie McNabb.
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